


Stucky Tumblr Drabbles

by TrekChik



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Airports, Alpine - Freeform, Bakery, Bed Bath & Beyond, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Bubble Bath, Coffee, Dancing, Farmer's Market, Fishing Trips, Forward Steve, Happy Ending, Hiding From Exes, Library Shenanigans, M/M, Meet-Cute, Selfies, Spa Day, Sugar Daddy, Zoom calls, accidental bed sharing, cheesy pickup lines, forward Bucky, mailman bucky, pools, shrinkyclinks, so much getting coffee, upcoming wedding, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 78
Words: 48,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27263299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekChik/pseuds/TrekChik
Summary: A collection of Stucky drabbles, really a series of Meet-Cutes with an occasional high-context relationship, all about 1000 words or less.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 89
Kudos: 42





	1. Accidental Bed Sharing

Bucky feels his bed dip as someone gets in on the other side of the queen-size mattress. He doesn’t need to see who it is, because of course, it’s his best friend Natasha. They share an apartment, and on rare occasions she gets night terrors and crawls into bed with him. She never reaches out for him, just wants the comfort of knowing someone else is there with her once her sleep paralysis subsides. He doesn’t pay much attention to her and settles back in, falling asleep quickly. 

The next morning, Bucky awakes abruptly to the sound of snoring. It doesn’t sound like Natasha’s soft snore, though. No, this is more of a five pound weight stuck in a blender. He rolls over to see what’s wrong with his red-headed friend. 

That’s not Natasha. It’s a man. There’s a man. In his bed. 

He quickly bolts from the bed as silently as he can and makes a beeline for Natasha’s room. He doesn’t even bother to knock. He flings the door open and shakes her. “Natasha!” he says in a stage whisper. “Nat! Wake up!”

“Huh? Wha-?” It’s all she can manage to get out this early and without coffee.

“There’s a man in my bed.”

“Good for you.” She rolls over and gives him a thumbs up. “Way to get laid, Barnes.”

Bucky throws up his hands and rolls his eyes. “Nat. I don’t know who this guy is. I thought he was you last night.”

That makes her sit up, her hair going in all directions. She pushes it off of her face but doesn’t try to fix the rest of it. “Wait. You didn’t go out last night.”

“I didn’t.” 

“And there’s a guy in your bed?”

“Yes!”

“Fuck.” She throws off the covers, hops out of bed and pushes past him, making her way to his room. She stops short when she sees the man in his bed. “You really do have a guy in your bed.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” 

“How did he get there?”

“I don’t know!”

She rushes back to her room. Bucky hears some rattling and hopes she doesn’t wake the guy, although from the sounds of his snoring, it shouldn’t be an issue. She returns with a baseball bat. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.” Bucky steps back and lets her do her thing, because Nat on a tear is a force to be reckoned with. 

Natasha steps quietly into Bucky’s room. She leans over the bed and nudges the guy with the baseball bat. Nothing happens. She nudges harder and his breathing catches and he flips over, but he doesn’t wake up. 

“Oh, my god,” she says.

“What?”

“That’s 4B. Fucking 4B is in your bed!”

“Bullshit.” Bucky steps into the room. There’s no way the hot guy from 4B is in his bed. Hell, Bucky has jerked off to thoughts of 4B and his ridiculously cut body, perfectly trimmed beard, too long hair, and piercing blue eyes. What the hell is he doing in Bucky’s bed? 

Natasha nudges him again. “Hey. Steve. Time to wake up.”

“Steve?” Bucky has only ever exchanged a quick “Hi” with him in the hallway. It never even occurred to him to find out his name. “How do you know his name?” Natasha rolls her eyes at him. 

Another nudge and Steve wakes up with a jolt. He scrambles out of the bed, taking the covers with him. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Steve, it’s me. Natasha.”

“Natasha?” Steve looks around Bucky’s room. “Where am I?”

“In our apartment,” Nat says at the same time Bucky says “In my bed.” 

One of Steve’s hands goes to his hair and he brushes back the loose strands. “Wait. I’m in your apartment?”

“Hell of a night, huh?” Nat asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

Steve plunks down on the bed. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry. I must’ve stumbled into your apartment by mistake last night after the guys dropped me off.” 

Bucky stares at Nat. “Did you leave the door unlocked again?”

“Oops?” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “Anyway,” she says as a way to deflect attention from her. “Steve, Bucky. Bucky, Steve. You’re both gay and single. Do with that what you will.” And she turns to go back to her room. 

“So...”

“So…”

“I should probably get going,” Steve says. He drops the blanket and looks to the floor. “Keys. Wallet.” He quickly bends down to pick them up and makes his way out of the room, passing close by Bucky as he exits. But as he puts his hand on the doorknob, he turns and says, “Single, huh?”

“Yeah. You, too?” 

“Yeah. I guess I’ll see you around, Bucky.”

“I’d like that.” 


	2. An Airport Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys meet in an airport bathroom. SMUT.

Steve sits in the terminal waiting for his flight. He’s got about forty minutes before boarding, and he flips through the news on his phone. He sighs heavily. He’s bored waiting, so just for the hell of it, he pulls up his hook up app. 

Ten matches pop up for his location, and he takes a quick glance around. No one jumps out at him, so he goes back to his phone to start swiping. He doesn’t have time for a hookup here. And at the airport? Not exactly prudent. 

The third picture catches his eye. Bucky. He’s good looking. Hair’s a little too long, though. Then again, it’s enough to get a good handful of when….nope. Not the time or the place. He swipes left. 

“Really, Steve?” 

He looks up and sees Bucky sitting about six seats down from him. They make eye contact and Steve panics. He grabs his bag, shoves his phone in his pocket, and hurries to the bathroom. Just for something to do, he washes his hands. 

His head is down and he doesn’t hear the man enter the bathroom. “Why’d you swipe left, Steve?”

Steve startles and looks up into the mirror. Bucky leans against the bank of stalls opposite the sink, arms folded over his chest, looking hotter than anyone has any right to. 

Steve shakes off his hands and grabs a towel. He turns to Bucky and leans on the sinks. “We’re about to get on a plane,” he says as if that’s all the explanation anyone would ever need. 

Bucky pushes off the stalls and sidles up to Steve. He boxes him in, Bucky’s hands on the sink on either side of Steve and stares into his eyes. “You don’t think I can get you off in like ten minutes?” There’s a challenge in his eyes that turns Steve on. 

Steve swallows, and he eyes flick down to Bucky’s lips. He really would like to see them wrapped around his dick if he’s being completely honest. “Can you?” Steve asks. What the hell is he doing? 

Bucky barks out a laugh as he pushes away from Steve and practically skips to the handicapped stall. “Wanna find out?” He holds the door open, gesturing for Steve to come on in. 

Now, Steve has had his share of hookups, but never one so quick, so dirty as this one is about to happen. He seriously considers just walking out of the bathroom, but his traitorous dick twitches in his pants at the thought of being sucked off in an airport bathroom, so he enters the stall. Bucky closes the door behind them. 

Bucky is on him in an instant, pushing Steve up against the wall and attacking his mouth. His hands scramble for Steve’s pants to get them undone as quickly as possible. Steve barely has time to catch up and reaches for Bucky’s pants, but Bucky swats his hands away. “You first,” he says, pulling away from Steve’s lips as Steve groans. “Gotta be quiet, baby. Don’t need the TSA getting hold of us.” 

Steve thunks his head against the wall. This shouldn’t be so fucking hot. But of course, it is. It’s like a real-life Penthouse Forum letter. Dear Penthouse, You won’t believe what happened to me today. Steve is so hard it aches.

Bucky’s hand wraps around Steve’s cock and jacks him a couple of times before he drops to his knees and gets his mouth on it. He suckles the head for a moment, licks at the frenulum, and finally takes Steve’s length into his mouth, bobbing his head.

Steve bites his lip to keep from making too much noise. His hand goes to Bucky’s head and that too-long hair. He runs his hand through it and tugs it just a little bit. Once he realizes what he’s doing, he lets go of Bucky’s hair. But to his surprise, Bucky pulls off and says “Yeah, Steve. Fuck my mouth.” And if that’s not the hottest thing Steve has ever heard. 

So he does. Bucky opens his mouth wide to let Steve use him. Steve’s hands grip Bucky’s hair and he holds him in place as he fucks into his mouth, Bucky taking it like a champ. He hardly chokes at all, and sticks his tongue out so that Steve can feel the drag of it on his cock as he pumps in and out of Bucky’s mouth. 

Bucky was right. He’s getting Steve off quickly and efficiently. Steve already feels the pull of an orgasm in his balls. “Jesus, Bucky. I’m close.” 

Bucky shakes loose of Steve’s hold. “You clean?”

“Yeah.”

“Come in my mouth.” 

Steve groans as Bucky takes over the job and blows Steve like there’s no tomorrow. It’s less than a minute before Steve comes down Bucky’s throat, Bucky swallowing every bit of it. 

Steve lets go of Bucky’s head and his hand drops to the wall. He does his best to catch his breath as Bucky stands and helps tuck Steve back into his pants. He then gives Steve another filthy kiss. 

Steve turns them around so that Bucky is now on the wall. He’s about to reciprocate when they hear the gate attendant’s voice on the overhead announcing that their flight is boarding. 

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” Bucky says as he exits the stall, winking at Steve. “You can get me on the layover.”


	3. Steve Meets Alpine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky answers the door to find an attractive neighbor with his cat.

There’s a knock at the door, and Bucky takes a quick look at his watch. It’s too early to be anything other than a neighbor, Bucky heads to the door, coffee mug in hand. 

He’s ready with a “Can I help you?” as he opens the door, but it dies on his lips. Standing there on his doorstep is a mountain of a man sans shirt, holding what appears to be Bucky’s cat.

It’s all very attractive. 

“Um, hi,” is what Bucky manages to get out. He tries not to stare at the man’s chest. He fails spectacularly.

The man gestures to the cat and smiles. “I think this is yours?”

Bucky reaches out for the cat, the telltale ID tag on her collar giving her away immediately. The cat goes willingly into Bucky’s arms. “Alpine. Yeah. Where did you find her?” 

“I live at the end of the block. Steve, by the way -”

“Bucky.” 

“And she’s been coming around to visit with me in the mornings just before my run.” Steve reaches out to scratch Alpine’s head. “It’s been about a week she’s been doing this.” 

“Good kitty,” Bucky says. “Look at you, making friends.” 

“That’s what I thought. Until this morning.” Steve shows Bucky the underside of his forearm. There are long red scratches on it. “I apparently didn’t stop with the belly rub soon enough.”

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry. Bad kitty.” He waves the coffee mug in front of the cat’s face, pointing out her indiscretion. The cat, of course, doesn’t give a shit. 

“I just want to make sure she’s up-to-date on her rabies shots,” Steve says. 

“Oh, shit. Yes. Of course. Come on in.” Bucky steps out of the doorway to let Steve in. He drops Alpine to the floor when he closes the door. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“That'd be great. Black, please.”

Bucky grabs a mug from the cabinet and pours Steve a cup. “I hope it’s not too strong,” he says. 

“The stronger the better. Thanks.” 

“I think it’s in the junk drawer.” Bucky opens a drawer and rifles through it looking for the rabies shot tag. It should be in an envelope. Of course, he finds it all the way in the back of the drawer. “Here you go. I take her every year. We just went in March.” He hands the envelope to Steve who opens it. 

“This is perfect. Thanks for allaying my fears. I’m glad she’s up to date.” He puts the tag back in the envelope and hands it back to Bucky, who notices Steve’s arm again. 

“Have you cleaned that yet?” he asks, pointing to the wound.

“Not yet. I wanted to know about the rabies first.”

“Understandable. I’ve got some peroxide if you want…” Bucky trails off.

“Thank you, yes.” 

“Hold on.” Bucky sets down his mug and exits to the bathroom for the peroxide and cotton balls, finding them easily. He’s already got one cotton ball soaked by the time he gets back to the kitchen. “Have a seat,” he says to Steve, gesturing to the kitchen table. 

Steve sits and lays his arm on the table. The scratches don’t look deep, but there’s a little bit of blood pooled around them. Bucky is about to touch the cotton ball to Steve’s arm, but Steve stops him by placing his hand on his. “I should probably do this,” he says. 

“Oh, yeah. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t have a...hand condom,” Bucky says, the word completely eluding him. 

Steve barks out a laugh. “You mean a glove?” 

Bucky ducks his head and holds out the cotton ball. “Yeah. That.” 

Steve dabs at his arm, hissing at the sting of the peroxide. He looks around for a trash can, and Bucky grabs the one under the sink for him. Steve tosses the cotton ball into it. “Doesn’t look too bad now that it’s cleaned up,” he says. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says. “For Alpine.” 

“You want to make it up to me?” Steve asks. Bucky nods. “Take me out for coffee.”

“I can do that,” Bucky says, sheepishly. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. 

Steve gets up to leave, saying, “I’m going for my run now. I’m in the blue house at the corner. Come by around three?” 

Bucky blushes as he nods is confirmation. As they get to the door, Steve leans in just a little too close to be anything but lecherous and whispers into Bucky’s ear, “You’re pretty when you blush, sweetheart.” 

Steve bounds down the stairs, turning only once to wave goodbye, leaving Bucky at the door, absolutely dumbfounded. Alpine comes up to him and twines around his legs. He picks her up as he closes the door. 

“Good kitty.” 


	4. Ass Slap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve sees Tony. Only it isn't Tony.

Steve has just left lunch with Sam. He’s feeling happy and pleasantly full. He hasn’t seen Sam in a while and it was good to catch up with him. Plus, they splurged on Peppino’s Brick Oven Pizza rather than a street cart, so it’s fair to say Steve is having a good afternoon. 

As he walks back to his apartment in Park Slope, he feels kind of like everything in life is going to work out for the best. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if the birds started singing just to him. He knows how ridiculous it is, but he’s in an amazing mood. At least he stops short at kicking up his heels while he’s walking. 

He catches a glimpse of a figure several steps ahead of him. From the back, it looks like his work buddy, Tony, so he sprints forward to give him a swat on the ass in greeting. Only, as soon as his hand makes contact with the man’s ass, he realizes the guy is most decidedly not Tony. 

“Hey!” The guy says, turning around to confront Steve. 

Nope. Not Tony. Fuck. “I’m so sorry.” Steve holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Obviously,” the guy says. He lightens his stance, backing down from the confrontational pose he assumed when he was smacked. 

“You okay?” Steve asks. “I didn’t mean to -”

“Yeah. No harm, no foul.” 

He brushes off his ass, and Steve uses the moment to take the guy in. Now that he’s really looking, he sees that this man is taller than Tony, a little more built, with fewer grey hairs than Tony has. But from a distance, it was an easy mistake. And upon closer inspection, the guy is beautiful: blue eyes, dark hair, and the faintest hint of crow’s feet. 

“Don’t suppose I could buy you a cup of coffee to make up for it?” Steve asks before he can even stop himself. What was he thinking? He has no idea which way the guy swings, and for all Steve knows, he could be a homophobic asshole. 

The guy narrows his eyes at Steve, and Steve thinks he’s made a huge mistake, but then the man breaks out into a blinding smile. “I suppose I’ve heard worse pickup lines,” he says and Steve lets out a breath. 

“I’m Steve,” he says. “Sorry about the ass slap.” 

“Bucky,” he says as he leans in closer. “Play your cards right and I’ll let you do it again.”


	5. The Bank and Mr. Barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve works customer service at a bank. He has a crush on Mr. Barnes.

Steve works on the daily overdraft report when Mr. Barnes enters the bank. 

Sigh. 

Mr. Barnes. To say that Steve harbors a crush for him is putting it mildly. It’s only natural. Mr. Barnes is one of the most recognized - and good-looking - figures in town. He’s the owner of Barnes Pharmaceuticals, the largest such company on the east coast. He’s a single father to his daughter, his wife having died in a car accident several years ago. 

Steve straightens up as Mr. Barnes makes his way to Steve’s desk. Steve stands, and holds out his hand for Mr. Barnes to shake. Steve tries not to be too self-conscious of his smaller frame in front of Mr. Barnes’ large one. Mr. Barnes is an imposing figure, impeccably dressed, and Steve wishes he could take a Klonopin to calm his nerves. 

“Steve. Good to see you,” Mr. Barnes says, shaking his small hand. 

“You, too, Mr. Barnes.” 

“Please, call me Bucky.” 

Steve makes a gesture for him to sit as Steve sits himself. “What can I do for you today?”

“I need to set up a savings account for my daughter.” 

“Absolutely. I can do that for you.” Steve reaches into the drawer next to him to pull out the necessary paperwork. 

“And I’d like to set it up so that it drafts a thousand dollars a week from my personal checking into her savings account.”

As Steve begins to fill in the sheet, he says, “I wish you were my daddy and put money into my account.” And he freezes. Did he just say that out loud? Fuck. 

“What was that?” Bucky asks in a tone that suggests he simply didn’t hear him. 

“Nothing, sorry,” Steve says. He feels his face flush with heat as he avoids Mr. Barnes’ eyes. He pulls up the program he needs on his computer and takes care of the transaction efficiently and with no more fuckups. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. He takes the transaction over to the teller’s stations to complete it. On the way back to his desk, his eyes meet Mr. Barnes’ and Steve gives just the faintest hint of a smile. Maybe he’ll get out of this situation with his dignity intact. 

“There you go,” he says, handing the receipt to him. “Oh, I just need one more signature.” He points to the spot on the paper which Mr. Barnes signs in his elegant text. “Thank you. Is there anything else I can do for you today?” 

“I think that’ll do it,” Mr. Barnes says, standing. “Thank you, Steve.” He claps Steve gently on the shoulder, leans into Steve, so that only he can hear and says, “I’ll call you later on the whole daddy thing.” 

He turns and walks out the door without a single glance back, leaving Steve standing there, dumbfounded.


	6. Bed, Bath, & Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky picks out a wedding gift for Becca. It affects him more than he expected.

Bucky stands in the housewares section of the Bed Bath & Beyond, his sister’s wedding registry in hand. He looks at the list again and back at the shelf of small appliances. Why the hell does she need both a blender and a juicer? Can’t the blender just do what the juicer does? And why does she need an air fryer? Just use the damned oven. 

And that’s when it hits him. His little sister is getting married. Oh, god. Becca’s getting married. He can hardly believe it. His kid sister, the one he forced to eat a mud pie, the one he convinced that the tooth fairy was real by leaving a feather on her pillow, the girl who cried on his shoulder after her first heartbreak, the woman who graduated college at the top of her class, is getting married. 

He feels the tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he thinks, no, not here, because Bucky is a crier, always has been. He gets misty at the drop of a hat, and he hates it. He swipes at his eyes, but it’s too late. The tears spill over down his face, and even as he wipes them away, they come faster. He sniffs and wipes his nose with his sleeve. 

He’s vaguely aware of a cart turning into his aisle as a sob bubbles up from the deep. Goddamn it, he thinks. This is not the time. 

“Hey,” a man says. “You okay?” The cart stops just past Bucky so that the man is right behind him. He even places a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bucky manages without looking at the man. How embarrassing. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

The man’s voice is comforting, so Bucky turns to look at him and a little laugh escapes him. The man is hot. Stupidly hot. Not fair hot. “Yeah,” Bucky says. “My little sister is getting married.” 

“Ah.”

“It just got to me is all. I’m good.” He takes a look in the man’s cart as he wipes away his tears. “Dishes?” 

“Huh?” Bucky points to the cart. “Oh, yeah. I’m moving to a new place and thought I’d get a new start.” 

“Grey. Good choice.” 

“Thanks. So, what are you thinking of getting her? Your sister.”

“I don’t know. The Insta-Pot maybe? I’m lost on the juicer vs blender decision.”

The man laughs and claps him on the back. “Probably a good decision. I mean why do you need both?” 

“Thank you!” Bucky says, glad to have backup on his thought process. 

“When’s the wedding?” the man asks. 

“May 2nd. Little over three weeks.”

“Got a date yet?” The man blushes as he ducks his head and looks at Bucky through his lashes. 

Bucky breaks out into a wide grin. “Are you asking me out to my sister’s wedding?” 

“Well, I was thinking about maybe something before then. Coffee? Dinner? We can work our way up to the wedding.” 

“Brave of you to ask out the crying guy in Bed Bath & Beyond,” Bucky says. At least he’s stopped, though his eyes still feel wet. 

“Call it chivalry. I came to the rescue of a knave in distress. I’m Steve.”

“Bucky. How ‘bout we each buy our things and go to the coffee shop around the corner?”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll see you there, then,” Bucky says picking up the Insta-Pot and watching as Steve rolls out of his aisle, looking back twice before turning the corner.


	7. Plants vs. Zombies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Becca play PvZ. Steve meets Bucky for the first time.

Steve and Becca hang out in her room playing  _ Plants vs. Zombies  _ together on her PS4. They’re trying to make it through to the Zomboss with as many of their lives intact as possible. 

“Look out!” Becca warns.    
  
“I see it!” Steve replies, deftly out maneuvering the zombie on his left flank. He’s not quite as quick and he loses his last life as a zombie gets him from behind. “Dammit. Fight the good fight, Becca. I’m gonna get something to drink. Want a soda?” 

“No, I’m good,” she says, staring at the screen. “Die zombie scum!”

Steve chuckles and makes his way downstairs to the kitchen. He’s been to her house enough that he feels comfortable raiding the fridge on his own. Her parents seem to like him, probably more because he isn’t a threat to their baby girl. Steve is small for his age with a few health ailments. Not to mention he’s gay, so he’s allowed in her room when her parents aren’t home. 

He’s bent over, looking for a soda, spying one in the back of the fridge. As he reaches to grab the bottle, he hears a rustling behind him. Must be Becca’s mom coming home from work. He’s ready with a “Hi Mrs. Barnes” to greet her, but as he stands and turns, the words die on his lips. 

Standing there is a boy, older than he and Becca, with piercing blue eyes, a shock of brown hair, and a lithe body clad in a white t-shirt and skinny jeans. This must be Becca’s older brother, Bucky. 

“Hey,” Bucky says. 

“Hi.” Why didn’t Becca mention her brother was so hot?

“Who’re you?”

Steve swallows. “Steve. I’m a friend of Becca’s.” 

“Mom and Dad know you’re up in her room?”

“I’m gay.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Izzat so?”

“Yeah.” 

Bucky’s eyes rake down Steve’s body, making him nervous. Is Bucky going to punch him for being in Becca’s room? Steve takes a step back and collides with the fridge. A magnet digs into his back. 

Bucky takes a step forward. He seems to enjoy watching Steve squirm. In fact, he sidles up to Steve and places his forearm on the fridge over Steve’s head. He looks down at him with a look that can only be called lecherous. 

“You like suckin’ cock, Stevie?” Bucky asks. He licks his lips for good measure. Steve doesn’t answer him, so he keeps going. “Wrapping your lips around the head, flicking the slit with your tongue, swallowing it down.” 

The noise that Steve lets out can only be called “undignified.” He closes his eyes, willing Bucky to go away. It doesn’t work. Bucky is still there, and Steve is horrified to realize he’s half hard. He can’t go back to Becca’s room like that. 

Bucky’s other hand reaches down and cups Steve’s cock through his jeans. “Yeah, you like the thought of that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Steve exhales and nods, god help him. “You like being eaten out?” Steve’s eyes dart up to Bucky’s. “Lap at your hole, making it all sloppy with my spit. Watch it drip down your taint.” 

Steve shudders at Bucky’s words. His traitorous dick fattens up to full hardness. He’s going to die. He’s going to die right here in his best friend’s kitchen. He’s certain of it. 

“I’ll steal your number from Becca’s phone and take you out before I fuck you. Treat you real nice, like you deserve. Sound good, sweetheart?”

Steve nods. 

Bucky pulls away from Steve. “Hi, Mom,” he calls, staring Steve down. 

Steve manages to break the spell and sprint halfway up the stairs before Mrs. Barnes catches him. He heads to the bathroom next to Becca’s room to will away his erection. He drops his pants and places the cold soda on his junk over his underwear. It takes a minute, but it works. He washes his hands and exits the bathroom. 

“What took you so long?” Becca asks him. 

“I ran into Bucky,” Steve says. 

“He’s such a jerk. Did he bother you?”

“No.”

“Good. I’d have to kick his ass,” she says. “Come on. I’m getting close to the Zomboss!” 

Steve picks up the controller and jumps back into the game, but he’s distracted thinking about her brother. 


	8. The Beer Koozie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes home to find a beer koozie on the doorknob. The signal that his roommate is getting laid.

Steve sits on the floor outside of his apartment, his textbooks scattered around him. He’d come home to a damned beer koozie on the doorknob, a surefire sign that his roommate was getting laid. He knew Clint would come take the koozie off the door at some point so that Steve could sleep in his own bed, but waiting it out was a pain in the ass. So, he’d taken his books out to study some. 

He was part way through taking notes on the Theatre at Epidaurus when his hot neighbor, Bucky, rounded the corner. “Hey, Steve,” he said, fishing out his keys. “Clint hooking up?” 

Steve points to the koozie on the door. “Yep. Just making the most of it while I can.” He gestures to the books laid out in front of him. “Looks like you might be in the same boat, though.” Steve points to the sock on Bucky’s door. 

Bucky sees the sock and drops his hands. “Oh, son of a bitch.” Steve chuckles. “I just want to go to sleep.” Buck leans against the wall, then slides down it, placing his hands on his knees. “I just got off a double shift at the coffee shop,” he says wearily. 

“I’m sorry, man. Tell you what, whoever gets done first, the other can crash on the sofa. 

“Deal,” Bucky says. He looks at Steve’s books. “Theatre? I thought you were a graphic design major.” 

“It’s theatre history. Satisfied the history requirement. I thought it’d be easy. I was wrong.” Steve waves his hand at the books in front of him. “I don’t know my anagnorisis from my peripeteia.” 

“Anagnorisis is when the main character discovers a critical detail or their true calling. Peripeteia is a reversal of circumstances.” 

Steve just stares at Bucky. He blinks twice for good measure. 

“What? I was a theatre kid in high school.” 

“And yet you’re a poli-sci major now?” 

“I like politics,” he shrugs. “What can I say? You know, I could probably help you with that class.” 

“Yeah?” Steve likes the sound of that. He’s been trying to figure out a way to hang out with his hot neighbor for a while. That just may be the way he gets his foot in the door. 

“Sure,” Bucky says. He shifts to his hands and knees and crawls over to Steve’s side of the hallway, sitting next to him. He looks over at the book in Steve’s lap. “Ah! The Theatre at Epidaurus! Constructed in 4 BCE by Polykeiltos the Younger.” 

Steve stares at Bucky. “And you just remember that? Why?” 

“It’s probably the most important structure in the history of theatre, and it’s still being used today!” Bucky’s face lights up when he describes it, and Steve can’t help but be drawn to him. “Just look at it! It can hold 14,000 people and it’s so acoustically perfect, you can hear the actors whisper even if you’re sitting at the top! It’s an amazing structure.” 

Steve smiles at him and marvels at Bucky’s enthusiasm. Before he knows what he’s doing, Steve leans in to kiss him. It’s just a quick peck, but as soon as he’s done it, Steve’s eyes go wide and he berates himself. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have - mmph.” 

He can’t even get the apology all the way out because suddenly, Bucky kisses him back, and it’s the best feeling Steve’s had all week. When they part, they touch foreheads. 

“I was wondering how to get you to notice me,” Bucky says. “If I had known it was theatre stuff, I’d’ve led with that weeks ago.”


	9. The Boxing Face Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes face off for their boxing match.

Steve has done this several times, enough that he doesn’t really get nervous anymore. This, being the face off between boxing opponents before the match. This one, however, is different. 

Steve is facing Bucky Barnes in the ring this time, and he’s a bit nervous about it. He’s watched enough tape to see what a threat Bucky is. The man is built like a brick shithouse, and his fighting style rivals Steve’s own. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, Bucky is hot. He sneaks a glance at Bucky’s piercing blue eyes, hair long enough to be pulled back into a bun, expertly fitted suit. It’s enough to give Steve butterflies. 

They’re sitting on opposite sides of the podium, both men dressed in three-piece suits, listening to the boxing promoter go on about their upcoming match, Steve doing his best to keep his eyes focused straight ahead. If he looks at Bucky, he’s going to smile. He’s going to have to look at Bucky’s ear or something when they’re nearly nose to nose in a minute.

Of course, that defeats the purpose of the stare down. You can’t assert dominance while staring at someone’s ear. He’s going to have to suck it up and pull on every bit of discipline he’s learned if he’s going to stare down Bucky Barnes. 

The promoter calls them up. This is it, Steve thinks. He can do this. He can intimidate Barnes just like he’s intimidated all the opponents before him. Steve stands and buttons his jacket. He closes off his face from anything but a stony glare. Bucky’s expression is similar to his own.

They face off, staring at each other in silence, willing the other to break. Steve is a master of the stare down, but as he stares into Bucky’s eyes, he feels his resolve crumble. He makes a split-second decision to kiss Bucky to try to rattle him. He closes the gap, and plants a kiss on Bucky’s lips, and pulls back immediately. 

To his credit, Bucky doesn’t flinch. Instead, he licks his lips, and flicks his eyes down to Steve’s. Before Steve can even register what’s happening, Bucky grabs Steve by the lapels, pulls him in, and kisses him harder. After a long moment, he shoves Steve back as he lets go of his jacket, opening his hands as if throwing him away. He smirks at Steve. 

Steve doesn’t break. Instead, he takes Bucky’s face in his hands, pulls him close and kisses him back. He licks at Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky opens for him. Their tongues slide together and teeth clack as the kiss is hurried and forceful. 

This time it’s Steve that lets go first and smirks at Bucky. That should show him. To his surprise, Buck reaches down and cups Steve’s dick, and Steve is mortified to realize he’s half hard. 

“I’ve got your number, Rogers,” Bucky says with a wink as he turns and walks off the stage.


	10. Wrong Number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve misdials Natasha's number. What he finds is better.

Bucky enjoys his bubble bath entirely too much. It’s been forever since he’s had a bath and he’d forgotten how relaxing they are. He’s let out cool water and refilled it with hot water twice already. He’s going to be a giant prune when he gets out and he doesn’t care. It feels good. 

He picks up his phone from the side of the tub and takes a quick selfie to send to Natasha. She’ll be glad he’s taking a little me time. Only, he doesn’t pull up her contact info, no, that’s too much trouble to scroll through his contacts to get to the N’s. He types in her number from memory. Send text. 

A few moments later he gets a text back, but not from Natasha. It’s a pic of some guy - some hot guy - who says “Hey.” Bucky looks at the number. He typed in a three instead of a six on Nat’s phone number. So, Hot Guy is one number off from Nat. 

He looks at the picture again. The guy is really good looking. Long-ish hair, blue eyes, beard. So Bucky texts back, thus beginning their conversation. 

BUCKY: Sorry. Was meant for someone else. 

HOT GUY: I figured. Your bath looks nice. 

BUCKY: I’m so embarrassed. 

HOT GUY: Don’t be. 

Bucky snaps a picture of his fingers, showing just how pruny they are and sends it. 

HOT GUY: Been in there a while, huh?

BUCKY: Yeah. I should probably get out. 

No other text comes right away, so Bucky gets out of the tub, drying off efficiently. He forgets about Hot Guy when his phone pings again just as he’s pulling on his PJ pants. 

HOT GUY: Don’t suppose you want to get a drink? 

He looks at his phone. Huh. How much money has he wasted on Tinder and Grindr subscriptions when all he could’ve done was just misdial Natasha’s number? 

BUCKY: Who says we’re anywhere near each other?

And really, just because they’re in the same area code doesn’t mean they’re that close to one another. No sense in getting his hopes up. 

HOT GUY: Brooklyn. You?

BUCKY: Same. 

His heart rate picks up. He could really meet this hot guy. Yep. This misdial is way better than any online dating service. 

HOT GUY: How far are you from The Wilky?

Shit. That’s close. He can be there in 15 minutes if he catches the subway just right. Of course, he’s got to get dressed and shit, his hair must be a wreck from all the steam in the bath. 

BUCKY: 15 minutes, but I did just get out of the tub. Say half an hour? 

HOT GUY: 30 minutes. The Wilky. Done. 

Yup. Bucky’s night just got infinitely better. 

BUCKY: Hey. Stupid question What’s your name? 

HOT GUY: Steve. You?

BUCKY: Bucky. 

STEVE: See you in 30 minutes, darlin’.


	11. Pick Up Lines

Steve leans on the bar, waiting for the bartender to bring him his beer. He looks around and wonders why he’s even here. Sam texted him saying he wasn’t going to be able to make it tonight, so why Steve didn’t just go home rather than coming to the bar all on his own, he’s not sure. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone, alone. 

He takes a seat as the bartender sets his Stella in front of him and pulls out his phone just for something to do. Does he scroll through his emails or just admit defeat and play solitaire? He’ll start with his emails. No sense in looking like a total loser right off the bat. 

He’s been through both personal and work emails when he feels someone sit next to him. He takes a cursory glance at the man who sat down, noting that he’s pretty good looking with dark hair and a scruff of a beard. The guy faces the bar, so Steve can’t tell what color his eyes are. 

“Come here often?” the man asks. 

Steve huffs a laugh. “What?”

The man turns to face him and Steve sees his eyes are blue. “I asked if you come here often,” he says. There’s a timbre to his voice that sits low in Steve’s gut. 

“I was meeting a friend who bailed.” He shows the man his phone. “Now I’m just going through my email.” 

“His loss,” the man says, taking a long pull on his beer. “So, on a scale of One to America, how free are you tonight?” 

North Korea is on the tip of his tongue, but he apparently hesitates a little too long because the guy is then asking him, “You play quidditch?”

That’s an odd question, Steve thinks. He’s about to answer, but before he can, the man says, 

“‘Cause you look like a keeper to me.” 

“Really? A Harry Potter reference?” Steve asks. His voice sounds incredulous, and he rolls his eyes, but he can feel the heat rising in his face. It’s been a while since anyone took notice of him in this way. 

“Hey, you got the reference! Not everyone does. That just won you some good, old-fashioned nerd points in my book.” He tips his beer towards Steve. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t go with the fruit one,” Steve says. When the guy furrows his brow in confusion, Steve answers, “If you were a fruit, you’d be a fineapple.” 

It’s stupid, but the guy throws his head back and barks out a laugh. Steve tries not to stare at the column of his throat, and tells himself that he does not want to map out the guy’s sternocleidomastoid with his tongue. Much. Okay, fine. He totally does. 

“That’s a good one,” the man says. “I’m Bucky, by the way.” 

“Steve.” 

“Well, Steve, are any of these horrible pickup lines working on you like I hope they are, or should I just go back to the other end of the bar?”

Steve makes a quick flick of his eyes down Bucky’s body. “Yeah. You can stay.”


	12. Fire Alarm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve really needs to learn how to cook.

“Fuck!”  
  
Steve pulls the ruined chicken out of the oven, tossing it on top of the stove. He really needs to learn how to cook something proper or else he’s going to be living on frozen burritos and take out for the rest of his life.

He waves the dish towel through the air to try to dissipate some of the smoke, but it’s too late. The smoke has hit the smoke alarm and it starts blaring, a sure sign his neighbors hate him. Sure enough, there’s a knock at the door in a matter of moments.  
  
“Coming!” Steve yells as he flings the dish towel through the air as he makes his way to the door. He flings the door open to find his neighbor, Bucky, standing in the doorway, hands on either side of the door jamb, head hung low.

Bucky shakes his head. “Again, Steve?”

Steve turns and walks back to the kitchen. “My chicken,” he says pointing to the blackened carcas on the stove.

“This is the third time in as many weeks,” Bucky says, following him in. “How do you manage to be the world’s worst cook?”

“I don’t know!” Steve says, still waving the towel around as the alarm is still going off.

Bucky takes a chair and drags it under the alarm. He steps up on the chair and quickly dismantles it to take out the battery which he tosses to Steve before putting back the chair.

“Thank you,” Steve says sheepishly. He leans on the counter and crosses his arms. “I really tried this time, too.” Not only did he manage to kill the chicken, but a can of beer and three bulbs of garlic to boot.

Bucky laughs. “Well, then, I’m just going to have to teach you how to cook.”

“Do what?”

“Call me selfish, but you need to learn how to cook.”

“How is that selfish?”

Bucky sidles up to Steve and leans on the counter next to him, and leans into Steve’s personal space. “You’ve never had a lesson in chopping garlic, have you?”

Steve swallows thickly and his eyes flick down to Bucky’s lips, the bottom one caught in Bucky’s teeth. He notices Bucky’s eyes are heavily lidded, and there's a hint of a smile brimming as Bucky releases his bottom lip. “I can’t say I have,” Steve manages to get out.

“You’ll like it. It’s all very...hands-on.” He knocks into Steve’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” Bucky pushes off the counter and his hand touches Steve’s arm for a moment. “Tomorrow. 6pm. I’ll bring the ingredients.”

“O-okay.”

“It’s a date,” Bucky says as he makes his way to the door. “See ya, Stevie,” he says as he exits, closing the door behind him, giving Steve one last wink as he goes.

“Fuck.”


	13. Becca's Bakery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky helps out at his sister's bakery. Hot guy enters.

Bucky stands behind the counter of his sister’s bakery, filling in for the day. She’d called him at five that morning, desperate as one of her employees called out sick, and she needed to bake, but also needed someone to man the register up front. She promised him a huge cup of coffee and a cheese danish would be waiting for him when he got there. 

So, he’d gotten up, run a wet comb through his hair to try to tame it, threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and headed down to Becca’s Bakery, where she did indeed have coffee and a danish waiting for him. The morning has buzzed by, not too busy, but busy enough to keep him occupied while Becca brought out tray after tray of pastries for the customers. He’s a little bit in awe of her. 

It’s just hit ten am when he tells her he’s almost out of singles in the register. She bites her lip and asks if he’ll be okay if she leaves him alone for a little bit so she can run to the bank. He assures her he’ll be fine and if she needs to make any other stops while she’s out, it’s fine. The bakery has slowed somewhat between the breakfast and lunch crowds. She thanks him, kisses his cheek, and runs out the door. 

Bucky’s been alone in the bakery for maybe ten minutes when He, capital H, walks in. He’s tall and blonde, and built, and buff, and Bucky wonders if he can come up with any more b words to describe him. Oh, yeah. Beautiful. Bucky wishes him a good morning as he looks at the pastries in the case. 

“Where’s Darcy this morning?” he asks. 

“She called in sick. I’m Becca’s brother, Bucky.” And fuck illiteration all to hell. 

“Cool. Steve,” he says pointing to himself. “I think I’ll go for one of these,” he says pointing to the apple fritters in the case, “and a large coffee.” 

“Good choice, Steve.” Bucky turns around to pour the coffee and scolds himself for sounding like an idiot. He places the coffee on the counter and is about to turn to the case for the fritter when he feels something at his leg. 

Bucky spreads his arms to get a better look only to find Steve crouched down behind the counter with him, tucked up against Bucky’s leg. He looks up sheepishly and places his finger over his lips, silently begging Bucky to stay quiet. He wonders what the fuck is going on, but does as asked. 

The door opens, letting in a new customer. Bucky’s not sure why, but he bristles at this newcomer. The man is perfectly nice, using his manners to ask for a dozen assorted muffins, but there’s just something about him that Bucky doesn’t like. He pays with a card, thanks Bucky, and leaves. As soon as the door closes, Steve peeks over the counter. “He’s gone?”

Bucky places a hand on the counter, and one on his hip. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?” 

“He’s my ex,” Steve says standing up. “Let’s just say it didn’t end well, and I’d like to avoid him if at all possible.”

“No wonder I didn’t like him,” Bucky says under his breath. He stops dead as he realizes he said that out loud. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks as he leans against the counter next to Bucky. He picks up the cup that Bucky poured for him. “Don’t suppose you want to get a coffee?” 

Bucky picks up his own cup off to the side of the register. “I think we just did,” he says taking a sip. “I get off at three if you’d like to do a late lunch.” 

“I’d like that,” Steve says, slipping out from around the counter and making his way to the door. He takes his coffee and fritter with him. “I’ll be back,” he says, pushing the door open with his butt and leaving, giving him a wink. 

Bucky is going to have to thank Darcy for being sick today.


	14. The Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's boyfriend looks entirely too good in a three-piece suit.

Bucky is one more comment away from losing his shit completely. 

Oh, no one is saying anything to him. No. It’s Steve that’s getting compliments. Which really shouldn’t be a problem. His boyfriend is good looking on a regular day, but today? When Bucky picked out his outfit to give him a little bit of extra pop for a presentation, he didn’t expect to be so jealous. 

And yet here he is. Every one of their coworkers has commented on Steve’s appearance today. Really, Bucky can’t blame them. He’d insisted Steve wear his dark grey three-piece suit with a brown shirt and tie. He looks fucking amazing. 

Steve eats up the compliments. He loves them apparently. And since no one at the office knows they’re dating, he can’t share that Bucky is the one that dressed him this morning. If Sharon from accounting comes by their pod one more time to make idle chit chat, Bucky is going to lose it. 

As a matter of fact, Bucky is going to stake his claim to Steve right here, right now. 

In the men’s room. 

He’d watched Steve enter the bathroom, waited a minute, then followed him in. Steve is just drying off his hands when Bucky roughly shoves him up against the wall. He flicks his eyes to the stalls, silently asking if anyone else is in there with them. Steve shakes his head. 

“What’s going on?” Steve asks all innocently like he has no idea what he’s doing. 

Bucky lets go of Steve’s shoulders and paces away from him. “What’s going on is that I’m never dressing you again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you! In that suit!”

“Yeah, thanks! I’m getting so many compliments on it. It was a good choice.”

Bucky growls at him. “I swear to god, Steve, if one more woman comes by our pod -”

“Oh, my god. Bucky. Are you...jealous?”

“Sharon fucking Carter can eat my whole ass if she thinks she’s got a chance with you.”

Laughter bubbles up from Steve’s mouth. “Aw, baby, no.” He runs a hand down Bucky’s arm and takes his hand, brings it to his mouth, and kisses the knuckles. “I don’t want any of them. Especially not Sharon. I just want you.

Bucky deflates. He knows he’s being stupid. Knows it. But Steve’s been preening all day under the weight of the compliments and Bucky, well, he had a moment of weakness. He sighs, resigned. “No, I know that. It’s just -”

“Just what?”

“You look so fucking good in this suit and I can’t stand to see the whole office fawning all over you. You’re mine.” It’s practically the whine of a petulant toddler. Bucky doesn’t care. 

“Absolutely, I am.” He kisses Bucky’s hand again. “Although, I gotta say, you’re kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

“Shut it, Rogers.” 

“No, I mean it. I like Possessive Bucky.” He leans in and nuzzles Bucky’s ear. “A lot,” he whispers. 

Bucky pulls back to look at him. “Yeah?”

Steve kisses him and says, “Oh, yeah.”


	15. The Crop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve kneels on his pillow in their bedroom, naked, hands clasped behind his back

Steve kneels on his pillow in their bedroom, naked, hands clasped behind his back. He’s not sure how long he’s waited here - could be five minutes, could be an hour. With his eyes closed, he’s lost all track of time. He thinks he can’t have been there too long as his knees aren’t too sore yet. But that’s how Bucky wants him, and Steve will do whatever Bucky asks of him. 

He feels himself slipping position, so he straightens back up. If Bucky catches him slouching, Steve might get the switch. And Steve hates the switch. He’s never safeworded it, but still, if he can avoid the switch, he will. 

He hears soft footsteps approaching the bedroom. He makes absolutely certain he’s positioned correctly, squaring his shoulders and tilting his hips forward. He’s hard and aching and desperately needs for Bucky to touch him. 

The door opens and Bucky enters the room. Steve hears him suck in a breath, and he preens, smiling that he’s made Bucky happy. Steve feels the air stir as Bucky circles him, stopping just behind him. Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s hair and Steve resists the urge to lean into it. He can’t move unless Bucky gives him permission. 

“You’re such a good boy,” Bucky says. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” Steve’s allowed to talk. Always. Bucky wants to hear everything that Steve experiences during their scenes. 

“How are you feeling?” Bucky practically purrs his approval. 

“Green.”

Bucky moves away from him and it takes all of Steve’s resolve not to follow his hand as it leaves his head. Steve hears The Drawer open as Bucky selects his instrument of choice. Steve’s breathing picks up, and he breaks out into a sweat at the anticipation. 

The drawer slides shut and after a moment, Steve feels something cool across his shoulders and his skin prickles. “Is that the crop?” he asks as the item makes its way down his back, around his waist, and comes to rest under his cock. 

“It is!” Bucky says, a pleased tone to his voice. Steve shivers at the praise. “You’re so good, baby.”

The crop falls across Steve’s ass and he already feels the beginnings of that floatiness creeping in at the edges. He sucks in a sharp breath but keeps his position, hardly flinching at all. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s see how good you can really be.”


	16. Decorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve puts up the Christmas decorations.

Steve kicks himself. He should have put the Christmas lights up last weekend when it was fifty degrees, not this weekend when there’s five inches of snow on the ground. But if he waits any longer, then there won’t be enough time to enjoy them, really. He like seeing the lights on when he comes home at night. 

That’s how he finds himself on the ladder, hanging lights in thirty degree weather, fingers freezing as he loops the strand around each hook to hold it in place. He curses himself as he climbs down and moves the ladder over another couple of feet to keep the string going. 

Just as he steps on the top step, which really, he knows he shouldn’t do, it’s written right there on the ladder not to do it, but he needs that extra few inches to reach the eave, his foot slips and he falls off the ladder. He’s got enough wherewithall to let go of the strand as he falls to the ground into the mostly unpacked snow with a crunch and a dull thud. 

He closes his eyes and assesses the damage. He doesn’t think anything is broken. He can feel is fingers and toes wiggle. His lower back is a little sore, but he thinks he’s okay. 

“Oh, my god! Are you all right?” 

Steve opens his eyes and blinks up at the man staring down at him, hair falling all over his face. “Are you an angel?” he asks a little dazedly. 

The man laughs. “First time someone’s called me that,” he says. “I’ve been accused of being the devil, though.” He holds out his hand to help Steve up. 

“Gimmie a sec,” he says, taking in the man from his vantage point. 

“Got your bell rung pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah. That I did.” Steve pushes himself up to a seated position. “Thanks for stopping, but I think I’m okay.” 

“Just to be sure, I want to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“You a doctor?”

“PA. Now, do you have any blurred vision? Dizziness? Confusion?”

“No. I don’t think so.” 

“Can you tell me what happened?”

And he does. He remembers it all with shocking clarity. The slipped step, letting go of the lights, the fall to the ground. It’s almost like he was watching from outside his own body. 

“Good. Now, have you got someone to stay with you for a while?”

“What for?”

“You don’t think you’re getting back up there to hang those lights, do you? No. You need to go inside and rest to make certain you’re okay.” 

Steve balks. He doesn’t have anyone to stay with him. 

The man senses this, smiles and holds out his hand to help Steve up again. “Or, you could offer me a cup of hot chocolate and I’ll stay with you for a bit. I’m Bucky.”

“Steve. Sure. Come on in.” He brushes the snow off his pants and kicks the ladder for good measure. 

Bucky holds out his hand to shake, which Steve does. “I’ll even help you hang those lights after I’m sure you’re okay.” 

“You sure you’re not an angel?”

Bucky leans in close to him and says, “If I say yes, does it mean I have a shot at a date?” 

Steve does an actual double-take. “Do what?” 

Bucky waves his hands in front of him. “Nothing. Never - I didn’t -”

Steve places his hand on Bucky’s arm. “Yes.”


	17. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky wants to dance.

Bucky turns on the radio, tuning the dial to the local NPR affiliate. He knows that for the next hour they’ll be playing standards from the 40s and 50s, and he’s got A Plan. It’s been a while since they’d done anything silly, and Bucky hopes Steve will go along with it.

Steve lays on the couch, reading on his iPad, scrolling along, not paying any attention to Bucky or the music. Bucky has put on a pair of nice jeans and a button-down shirt, the arms rolled up to the elbows. He is, however, barefoot. He thinks he looks good. He smooths his long hair back, tucking away any stray strands. 

Bucky stands behind Steve’s head by the armrest, and clears his throat. Steve doesn’t notice, so he does it again. 

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve doesn’t look up from his Kindle. 

“Steve,” he practically whines. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, a sure sign of nervous energy. He flexes his fingers, the metal ones whirring quietly as they move. 

Steve stretches his neck and arches his back, head rolling over the armrest to look at Bucky. “Hi,” he says softly as he takes in his boyfriend’s attire. 

Bucky looks at him upside down. “Hi.”

“You’re dressed.”

“I am. Did you hear the music?” 

Steve sinks back into the sofa and cocks his head to listen. “I didn’t. What’s it for?” 

Holding out his hand as if asking for a dance, he says, “May I?” 

Steve furrows his brow then laughs. He tosses the kindle on the coffee table, holds out his hand, and stands. “You may.” 

They come together, bodies flush, and sway to the music as they grin like idiots at each other. “What brought this on?” Steve asks. 

Bucky shrugs. “Felt like a dance is all.” He leans in to kiss Steve, and it’s nice, soft. But after a moment, they’re laughing more than they’re kissing. Their teeth clack together one too many times, so they settle into each other, cheeks touching chastely just like they did way back when. 

“This is nice,” Steve says. “We should do it more often.” 

“I know something else we should do more often,” Bucky says. He turns to nuzzle the shell of Steve’s ear with his nose. 

Steve pulls his shoulder up and shudders then leans back to look at Bucky. “Why, Mr. Barnes, I think you’re trying to seduce me.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow. “And is it working?”

“Maybe.” 

“Good.”


	18. The Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is having a…not so great time at the club.

Steve is having a….not so great time at the club. First of all, he figures he’s too old for this shit. Thirty-five is definitely pushing the envelope of acceptable club age, if not outright blowing clear past it. Clint and Natasha seem to be having the time of their lives, dancing to a song Steve has never heard before. He’s more than content perched at the end of the bar, taking in the scene and sipping his drink.

He’s turned down one man and one woman for a dance so far. He could see Natasha rolling her eyes at him from the dance floor while Clint just shook his head. Steve’s not going to begrudge them their fun, they look like they’re enjoying themselves. He thinks he’s good for one more drink and then he’ll bow out for the night and head home. 

Not long after he’s made his decision, however, the DJ plays a vintage Madonna song and Steve can’t help but move his hips a little to the music. He’s a sucker for a Madonna song and he knows it. He turns around and leans up against the bar, his forearms leaning on the edge as he takes in the dance floor before him. He smiles at Clint and Natasha’s grinding, shaking his head to himself at his friends. 

It’s then that his eye catches sight of the most gorgeous man in the club. He’s dancing alone in the middle of the fray, hips gyrating, hands over his head. His hair is long and dark and dangles in his face. His lithe body is clothed in black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt that hugs his torso entirely too tight. Steve’s mouth waters. 

The man hop-spins to the music and when he stops, he’s facing Steve and stares right at him. The man bites his lip and gives Steve an obvious once over. He smiles devilishly and makes a beeline for Steve. Steve, for his part, finishes his drink in one large gulp. 

“Hi,” the man says once he’s in front of Steve. 

“Hi.” 

“Wanna dance?” He walks his fingers up Steve’s torso and hooks a finger into his collar, giving it a gentle tug forward. Steve doesn’t hesitate and moves forward easily. 

Steve says nothing, but follows the man to the dance floor. They don’t take their eyes off each other. Steve idly wonders what Clint and Natasha think of him actually dancing, but he shrugs it off in favor of imagining what this man in front of him will feel like pressed up against him. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long. The man grabs Steve’s wrist and tugs him close, their bodies slotting together perfectly. They rock together and the man puts his hands around Steve’s neck as Steve grips the man’s sinful hips. 

They sway and grind on each other to the music. It’s not a terribly long song, and just as Steve was really getting into it, the music changes back to something newer that he doesn’t know. His movements falter at the change of tempo and the man laughs, tossing his head back and exposing his neck. Steve impulsively leans forward and licks up the column of the man’s throat. The salt of sweat explodes on his tongue, and Steve groans as he feels the man’s breath hitch. 

When the man tips his head back down to look at Steve, his pupils are blown wide and Steve would bet that his heavier breathing has nothing to do with the dancing they’re doing. The man licks his lips and it’s everything Steve can do to not lean in to kiss him. 

Instead what he does is lean into the man’s ear and whispers “Wanna get out of here?”

“God, yes.”

Steve lets go of his hips and takes him by the hand, leading him off the dance floor. They pass by Clint and Natasha and Steve says, “Call you tomorrow,” as they make their way off the floor. 

They wind their way out of the club, Steve leading the way through the throng of bodies, his hand tight on the other man’s. As they burst through the doors, it occurs to Steve that he has no idea what this man’s name is. 

The man tucks into Steve’s side and says, “I’m Bucky, by the way.” 

Steve’s arm goes around Bucky’s shoulders and guides him to the car. “Steve.”


	19. The Doctor's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve sits in the doctor’s office waiting on the PA to show up and tell him whether or not he’s fractured his arm.

Steve sits in the doctor’s office waiting on the PA to show up and tell him whether or not he’s fractured his arm. He’d tripped over his own two feet and wound up falling, putting his arm out to stop his fall. There’s no obvious break in his arm, but he felt immediate pain when he landed. He supposes it’s good enough that he didn’t break his fall with his face. He’d hopped on the train, cradling his arm, to head to the local orthopedic emergency care place. 

He’s been through the usual rigamarole that they put you though: height, weight, current meds, etc. The nurse had at least been sympathetic. The x-ray tech that came and got him was more perfunctory than personable. He hopes the PA is as nice as the nurse had been. 

He looks at his watch again. It’s been fifteen minutes since he’s been back from x-rays. His arm throbs with a dull pain. He’s pretty sure a bruise is starting to bloom, too. At least it’s not his dominant arm. Small favors and all. 

Another few minutes and there’s finally a small knock on the door, followed by it opening.   
“Knock, knock,” the voice says. 

“Yeah,” Steve responds, sitting up straighter. 

“Steve? Hi. I’m Bucky.” 

“Hey,” he manages to get out. Bucky is beautiful. There’s no other way to describe it. Steel blue eyes, a scruff of a beard, long hair pulled back into a bun, and an intricate sleeve tattoo on his left arm that stops at the wrist. The scrubs he wears show off his beefy torso perfectly. Steve might be a little bit in love. 

“So, tell me what happened,” he says, sitting down on the rolling stool and rolling closer to Steve. When Steve is done relating the story, Bucky holds out his hand for Steve’s arm. He tenderly squeezes right where the pain is, and Steve flinches. “Yep. There it is.” 

He lets go of Steve’s arm and turns around to the computer behind him, pulling up Steve’s x-rays. “You’ve got a hairline fracture of your ulna. That’s the skinny one.” He places the point of his pencil on the screen.

He points to a spot on the x-ray and Steve strains to see it. He’s not even sure it’s there at all. “You sure? I don’t see it.” 

Bucky laughs. “Trust me, it’s there.” After a second, he adds, “Come here. You can see it better.” He scoots the stool over so Steve can fit into the space with him. 

Steve stands and takes a half a step to the counter, looking at where Bucky’s pencil points to on the x-ray. “Oh, yeah. There it is,” he says, finding the tiny spot on the film. “So, what do we do about it?” He turns to Bucky as he says it, and their faces are right next to each other. For a moment, they’re even sharing the same air. Steve’s eyes flick down to Bucky’s mouth and then back up. Steve clears his throat and sits down. 

Bucky spins the stool to face Steve and places his elbows on his knees. Steve unconsciously sinks down a bit in the chair to meet him at his level. 

“Since it’s just a hairline fracture, I’m going to give you an immobilizer cast that you keep on at all times except for showering, and I want to see you in two weeks.”

“What about Friday night?” Steve asks before he can stop himself. “Sorry,” he says, ducking his head to avoid Bucky’s gaze. 

“I’m not allowed to date a patient,” Bucky says, but Steve can tell without even looking at him, there’s a bit of mirth in Bucky’s voice. 

“Yeah, I -”

“But I could get you in with either Dr. Banner or his PA, Wanda. So long as you don’t see me at your next visit” 

Steve looks up, a giant smile on his face. “Yeah. I could do that.”

Bucky smiles back. “It’s a date.”


	20. Tea Hugger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finds a tea stand at the farmer's market

Bucky wanders the rows of the local farmer’s market, his bag laden with eggs and milk from the local dairy, pastries from the Greek restaurant downtown, various vegetables, and even a bottle of BBQ sauce from a Mom and Pop operation. If only he could find some plums….

He’s about ready to head out when he notices an overhead sign for a vendor he hasn’t seen at the market before: Tea Hugger. “Huh,” he says, already making his way to the table. When he gets there, he doesn’t find anyone manning it, though, so he picks up their menu to see what kind of teas they have. 

He’s always been a green tea kind of guy, so he hones in on that section. Organic Pineapple Coconut. That sounds interesting. Ooh. Maybe Watermelon Rose. Or Cranberry Green. Mrs. Fahrenheit sounds like it’s got some promise. How is he ever going to choose one of these teas?

“Can I help you?” a male voice asks. There’s laughter in his voice.

Bucky looks up from the menu and comes face to face with the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. Baby blue eyes, a full beard, brown hair that’s perfectly styled. He’s wearing a plaid shirt that hugs every muscle on his torso. Bucky is practically dumbfounded. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” he says, kicking himself internally for sounding like an idiot. “There are a few flavors I’m looking at. Can you recommend one?” 

“Have you got a preference of black or green? Maybe white or herbal?” 

“Green, actually.” He does his best not to ogle the man in front of him. 

“I think Passion Fruit Jasmine is my favorite. Oh, and I’ve got the Pineapple Coconut iced today.”

“Oh, yeah? That sounds good. Let me get a cup of that.” 

“Sure thing.” 

As the man turns around to pour Bucky’s cup, Bucky is going to try for small talk. It takes him a moment to get started because the man has got an ass like no tomorrow. “I haven’t seen you here before. First time?” 

“Yeah. Gotta get my feet wet somewhere,” he says. “I’d like to open up a shop, and thought this would be a good way to get the name out there.” He hands Bucky a clear cup with a top. He points to a canister with straws. 

Bucky takes a straw and looks at it. “Weird texture,” he says.

“They’re wheat stems. If you’re gluten free, I’ve got some plastic ones.” 

“No, I’m good. Wheat stems?” 

“And the cups are corn cups. Totally biodegradable.”

“That’s impressive,” Bucky says, putting the straw in the cup. He takes a sip and savors it. It’s good. Better than he expected. “Is this as good hot as it is cold?” 

“I like it better cold, but it’s good hot.” The man crosses his arms and Bucky swears his shirt is going to rip open from the size of his muscles. “You know, if you want to try a little bit of everything, I’ve got this sampler pack.” He points to a clear box with smaller round containers in it, each with a different variety of tea. 

“That sounds great,” Bucky says, then stops, realizing what that means.

“Do you want one?” 

“No, actually.”

“Oh.”

“No! I mean. Sorry. It’s just that if I get the sampler, I won’t get to come back here every week and try a new tea.” 

The man blushes. “Well, that’s one way of doing it.” 

“Is there another?” Bucky asks. 

“Are you familiar with 1618 Downtown?”

Bucky nods. It’s a popular seafood restaurant. 

“And I’m sure you know Maxie B’s.” 

“The cake shop. Sure.” 

“Well, 1618 has three of these teas as martinis. The Watermelon Rose is particularly good. And Maxie B’s carries our teas. I could take you on a tasting.” 

It takes Bucky a moment to realize what’s happening. This guy is asking him out. And now it’s Bucky’s turn to blush. “I don’t even know your name.” 

“Steve.” He holds out a hand to shake. 

“Bucky. I’d like that.”


	21. The Fishing Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky books a fishing trip.

“You must be Bucky,” the man says, extending a hand. “I’m Steve.”

Bucky takes the hand, saying “Nice to meet you.” He tries for chipper, but it’s five o’clock in the morning, and he’s getting onto a boat to go swordfishing. Without his friends, he notes. Stupid Tony and Sam had gotten hammered last night and both begged off the fishing trip. Bucky wasn’t about to waste the money he ponied up, so here he is, all alone. 

“Sorry it’s just me,” he says. “My friends are jerks.” 

Steve laughs, a deep, hearty laugh. “It’s not the first time I’ve had people not show up. But you’re here, and we’re still gonna have fun. Right?”

“Right.” He makes that tentative step onto the boat and gets his bearings quicker than he thought he would. He hopes they stay with him once they’re out on the open water. 

Bucky had no idea what to wear, so he’s dressed in shorts, tee, and a windbreaker. He’s wearing well-worn dock shoes and a ball cap on his head. He takes comfort in the fact that Steve is dressed similarly, although he’s got flip flops on. Bucky wonders what Steve knows that he doesn’t. 

Steve makes a few last minute preparations and then asks Bucky to untie the boat from the pylon. He does and tosses the rope to the deck. 

“Why don’t you come on up here?” Steve asks, gesturing to the helm. “It’s gonna take us about twenty minutes to get to the spot and it’s still chilly out.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” Bucky makes his way to the helm, sitting next to Steve in a little covered area. He has no idea what it’s called. Something silly, he’s sure like a ransom or ransack or god knows what. 

Steve carefully maneuvers the boat away from the dock, and a few minutes later, they’re out of the marina and headed towards the open water of the sound. It’s dark still, so Bucky just trusts that Steve knows where he’s going and they won’t end up on the jetties. 

Bucky soon realizes that Steve is A Talker. He’s grateful for the distraction since he’s feeling a little queasy, despite having popped a Dramamine before he left the house. Bucky learns that Steve is a Townie, having grown up in Montauk. He owns the boat which he hires out for day trips like this one. He’s an occasional bartender at the local dive bar, and during the winter in the lean months, he’s been known to take the odd construction job or two. 

During the ride to their fishing spot, Bucky takes time to really notice Steve. He’s tall, a little taller than Bucky, and from what Bucky can tell, he’s fucking built if the strain of his t-shirt is any indication. He thinks that Steve’s got a bit of a fisherman’s tan under his shirt, too. He’s caught a glimpse or two of whiter skin by the hem of his sleeves and at the nape of his neck. 

His neck. His throat. Bucky watches Steve’s Adam’s apple bob while he’s talking. He follows the sternocleidomastoid up to his right ear where Steve’s got a single stud earring. Bucky doesn’t remember seeing one in the other ear. What was the old saying? Right is wrong and left is right? He shakes his head and chastises himself for the long-forgotten microaggression. You can’t tell if someone is gay by which ear is pierced. 

“What do you think?” Steve asks him.

Oops. He was too busy wondering if Steve swung in his direction, he zoned out for a moment. “Sorry, what was that?” 

“I asked if you like baseball.”

“Yeah,” he says wondering how Steve got to that topic. “I’m a Mets fan.”

“Sox fan, myself,” Steve says. He must notice the odd look Bucky gives him. “Back in the day, before cable, Montauk is actually closer to Connecticut than the city, so we got New England stations. I grew up watching the Sox. And the Patriots. God were they horrible in the 80s. Anyway, I play in an intramural league here in the village. There’s a game tonight if you want to come on by. You passed the ball field on the way to the docks.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds like fun. I’ll have to check you - IT - out.” He hopes Steve didn’t notice that little slip of the tongue. 

They make more small talk while on their way to the spot. It takes them about another fifteen minutes to get there. Once they reach the spot, Steve cuts the engine and the world goes quiet with just the sound of the water lapping at the boat. 

“Okay,” Steve says. “We’re here.”

Bucky looks out over the horizon where the sun is just beginning to peek up from the water. The colors bloom in pinks and oranges. It’s breathtaking. 

“It’s something, right?” Steve asks. 

“It’s beautiful.” Bucky turns to look at Steve who’s smiling widely, like he’s just released the secret of the universe to him. He may just have. 

Steve breaks away first and busies himself with getting the fishing chair set up for Bucky. He opens the cooler with the bait and Bucky blanches. He hadn’t realized they were using live bait. Steve just chuckles. “If you’re not up to it, I can hook the bait,” he says. Bucky lets him do it. Steve shows him how to cast the reel and after a few tries, Bucky manages to cast it far enough out that Steve claps him on the shoulder. 

And now comes the waiting. Fishing is nothing but sitting in the water waiting for something to happen by, and take the bait. It’s a lot of waiting around. But it’s nice. It’s relaxing sitting in the chair, looking out over the water, watching the sun come up, breathing deep the smell of the salt air. He and Steve continue to chat while waiting for something to bite.

And when it does, it’s exciting! Bucky feels a tug at the line and he sits up. Steve is suddenly right there by his side. Bucky smiles at the thought of having hooked something. He begins to reel in the line and Steve suggests he strap himself into the chair. Bucky doesn’t think it’s necessary. Whatever he’s hooked feels manageable. 

After several minutes, what Bucky manages to pull into the boat is a skate. Not exactly what he came out here for. He’s disappointed, but he’ll get Steve to bait the line once more, and he’ll try again. Steve unhooks the skate, and hands it to Bucky, letting him throw it back into the ocean. 

“You’re not the first one to catch a skate,” Steve says. “They’re pentiful out here, too.” He deftly baits the hook for Bucky, while Bucky tries not to stare at how nimble Steve’s fingers are. 

“Guess we’ll try again,” Bucky says, casting the line. It’s another few hours before he gets another hit that’s anything substantial. This time he does get strapped into the chair, because whatever’s at the end of the line is big. 

Bucky sets the pole in the holder in front of him and slips his arms into the straps. He’s about to buckle himself up, but Steve swoops in. “I’ve got it,” he says, deftly buckling Bucky to the chair. “You got this?”

“I think so.” He puts his feet up on the stern for leverage and begins to reel in his catch. Pull, reel. Pull, reel. And so it goes for several minutes until his prize is up against the boat: a shark, approximately six feet in length. “Oh, shit,” Bucky says as Steve cuts the line letting the fish go. 

“Sorry, man,” Steve says. “I was hoping you’d hooked one.” 

“Hey, it was still fun.” Bucky smiles, lifts his cap, and runs his hand through his hair. He takes a glance at his watch. “It’s about time to get back, isn’t it?” 

Steve nods. “It is. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” 

“I did.” 

Steve goes back to the helm while Bucky unbuckles the straps on the chair and joins him. “So, ball game tonight?” he asks. 

Steve coughs. “Um, yeah. If you want. I don’t want you breaking plans with your friends.” 

“Those asshats are on their own,” Bucky says with a smile. “They missed all the fun today.” He pauses before adding, “I’m glad they did.” 

“Me, too,” Steve replies. 

The twenty minutes back to the docks is spent in companionable silence. Bucky hopes he didn’t push too much. He’s not even sure if Steve is gay. Or bi. 

When they’re moored back at the dock, Bucky fumbles for what to say to Steve next. Luckily, Steve takes the lead. He sidles up next to Bucky and leans in close. “ Game starts at seven,” his voice is low and deep and it does things to Bucky. “Want to get dinner before? And a drink after?”

Bucky swallows. “I’d like that.” He turns his head to Steve’s neck, closes his eyes and inhales his scent. When he realizes what he just did, he starts to apologize.

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t you dare apologize.” Steve pulls away and stares into Bucky’s eyes. “I’ll see you tonight. Five pm. Shagwong.” He winks and Bucky thinks he’s going to melt into the boat. 

“Yeah. See you then.” 

Bucky nearly face plants getting off the boat, tripping over the rope that ties the boat to the dock. He manages to recover and looks back at Steve who grins wickedly at him. 

Yep. He’s fucked.


	22. The Kitchen Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve needs to be punished.

“I’m home,” Bucky calls into the house. No one answers. “Steve?” Nothing. 

Bucky drops his duffle at the foot of the stairs and wonders where Steve could have gone. Groceries, maybe. He hadn’t given Steve a definite time he’d be home, so no big deal. He’ll get something to drink and then unpack. 

Only the kitchen...

He’d only been gone two days and yet the kitchen looks like there has been a small party held in it. Three glasses, two plates, assorted utensils, and an open packet of Pop-Tarts litter the countertop. 

Bucky places his hands on his hips, looks up at the ceiling and begins to count.

One...two...three…

He loves Steve, he really does, but some days. Some days Steve tries his patience, and coming home and finding the kitchen a mess is one of those days. It’s not like the dishwasher is right there or anything. Why can’t Steve take the extra two seconds to put the dishes in there?

Oh, right. Because he’s a brat. 

Bucky sighs and resigns himself to cleanup duty. He makes quick work of the kitchen, grabs his overnight bag, and trudges upstairs. It shouldn’t take him too long to unpack and then draw a bath while Steve is out. It’ll help him get rid of the tension he’s picked up cleaning the kitchen. 

Only when he enters their bedroom, he stops cold, dropping his duffle in the doorway. 

Steve kneels on a pillow on the floor, his hands clasped behind his head, eyes cast down. He’s naked except for a pair of fleece-lined leather cuffs and a cock ring. Bucky can see a bit of sweat on his forehead as if he’s been in this position for some time and is having trouble holding the pose. 

“Stevie?”

“Hey, Buck.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Dunno. What time is it?”

“11:30.”

“Hour and a half.”

“Fuck.” 

Bucky knows what Steve is doing. He knows that Steve left the kitchen a mess on purpose so he would garner a punishment. He’s been kneeling for ninety minutes waiting for Bucky to get home. 

Bucky couldn’t be more proud of him. Even if he is a brat. 

He crosses the room in two long strides and runs his hands through Steve’s hair. “Why are you kneeling?” He knows the answer, but Steve needs to take responsibility for his actions. 

“The kitchen,” Steve says. He flicks his eyes up to look at Bucky, and Bucky corrects him by pulling on his hair as he forces his head down. 

“What about the kitchen, pet?” 

“I didn’t clean up after myself while you were gone.” He at least sounds somewhat contrite, but Bucky knows he’s not sorry at all. 

“You did. And I just put everything away.” He begins a slow circle around Steve. “After being gone all weekend. Do you think I wanted to do that?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I need -”

And this is it. The moment Bucky waits for. Steve’s admission. “What do you need, baby?”

“I needed to be punished.”


	23. The Lawn Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is a lawn guy. Bucky likes his shorts.

Bucky sighs when the doorbell rings, more annoyed than anything. It’s probably a JW or Mormon kid with some literature. He’ll accept it, say thank you, and close the door. What he’s not expecting is quite possibly the best looking man he’s ever seen standing on his front porch. 

The man is dressed in work boots, cargo shorts, and a polo shirt with the name of a landscaping company on the chest. And Lord, what a chest. The fabric of the man’s shirt looks like it’s straining to stay together, the one button that’s done up fights valiantly to keep buttoned. 

“Hey,” the man says. “I’m sorry to bother you -”

“It’s okay,” Bucky says automatically. And really, with the way this guy looks, it’s perfectly fine. He could’ve been elbow deep in making dinner, and it would be fine. 

“I’m Steve with TLC Lawncare and I noticed you’ve got some overgrowth in the bushes out front.” He looks almost apologetic when he says it as if he doesn’t want to embarrass Bucky.

And that’s fair. Bucky has been meaning to get to Lowe’s to buy a hedge trimmer, but he’s been making excuses for doing just that for weeks now. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to get to that,” Bucky says. 

“I just finished up across the street,” Steve jerks his thumb behind himself, “and I’d be glad to take care of them for fifty bucks.”

“That would be great, actually.” Bucky grips his hips as if looking for his wallet. “I don’t know that I have cash on me. Will you take a check?” 

“That’ll work. Give me half an hour and you’ll be all set.” Steve turns to head back down the porch steps. 

Bucky watches him go, and he’s glad he did. Those shorts make Steve’s ass look amazing. He takes in a steadying breath and closes the door. Now he’s got to find his checkbook. 

By the time Steve comes back to the door, he’s flushed and a little sweaty, and Bucky can’t help but stare at him. He reaches in his pocket to find the check he wrote out and hands it to Steve. “Thank you. Really. It’s a big help to me.”

“You’re welcome. Glad I stopped by.” 

And because Bucky’s brain has zero chill, he says, “I don’t suppose you’d want to get coffee sometime, would you?” 

A smile creeps onto Steve’s face. “Did you just ask me out?” 

“No,” Bucky says automatically. “Maybe. Depends on your answer, I guess.” Bucky’s face contorts into confused hope. 

“I’d like that -” he looks down at the check Bucky handed him, “- James.” 

“Please. Only the government calls me James. It’s Bucky.” 

“Bucky.” Steve pockets the check. “I’ll text you when I get off work, okay?” 

Bucky knits his brow. “How do you -?”

“Your number is on the check.” Steve laughs lightly. 

“Oh.” Of course it is. Bucky’s an idiot. 

Steve turns to go, giving a little wave as he hops down the steps. 

“Hey, Steve?” Steve turns to look at him. “Promise me you’ll wear those shorts.”


	24. The Leaf Pile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since he was a little kid, Bucky has loved piles of leaves.

Ever since he was a little kid, Bucky has loved piles of leaves. More specifically, he loves jumping into piles of leaves. He doesn’t get to do it very often, but every once in a while, he’s able to spot a pile right up against the curb that he’s able to frolic in for a bit. And he always puts it back where it had been. AT least as best he could without actually carrying a rake on him at all times. 

But this pile of leaves? This is the biggest pile of leaves Bucky has ever seen. He spots it easily on his morning jog. As he approaches it, it realizes that it’s nearly as tall as he is. How the hell could this house have that many leaves? 

He doesn’t care. He’s jumping in it. He picks up speed as he gets closer to the pile, and by the time he’s right up on it, he’s going at a pretty good clip. He leaps, spins, and falls into the pile on his back, arms and legs outstretched. Bucky doesn’t have time to enjoy the feeling because hears an “Oof” almost as soon as he lands. He scrambles to get up out of the leaves.

“Hello?” he says to the pile. 

“Yeah. Under here,” the voice says back. 

“You okay? I didn’t mean to jump on you.” 

A man pops his head up out of the pile. “It’s okay. No harm, no foul.” He swims out from under the leaves, crunching a couple in his hands as he does. “This your house?”

“Uh, no,” Bucky says. “I was just jogging by.” 

“Couldn’t resist, huh?”

Bucky blushes. “It was just so big.” Then a thought hits him. “So, this isn’t your house either?” 

“Nope. I was jogging by, too. I mean, how do you ignore a pile like that?”

“You don’t,” Bucky says. 

Just then the front door opens and a woman comes out. “Can I help you?” he asks. It’s obvious from her tone that she doesn’t take kindly to them being on her property. 

“Afternoon, ma’am,” the man says. “We were just out here jogging and couldn’t resist your leaves.” 

“You’re a little old to be jumping into leaf piles, aren’t you?” she asks. Bucky can see her brow arched from the sidewalk. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky says. “We’ll just be going now.” 

And with that, the man grabs his hand and starts off running. Bucky has to follow along. After a block or so, Bucky slows up. “Wait.”

The man turns back to him. “Yeah?” 

“What’s your name?”

“Steve.”

“Bucky. Coffee?” 

“I’d like that.”


	25. Sticky Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has some fun studying at the library.

Bucky has about had it with studying. He’s only been in the library for twenty minutes, but he’s done. There’s got to be a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon. He looks down at the text again, and his eyes start to cross. Maybe choosing Botany for his science requirement was a mistake. He should have gone with Intro to Forensics instead. Too bad it was full.

He’s about to give up and call it quits when he realizes that at some point, Steve Rogers has sat on the opposite side of the table from him, two chairs down. Steve is in Bucky’s English Lit class, and asks the most inane questions. It’d be annoying if it weren’t so adorable. And okay, Bucky has a bit of a crush on Steve with his lithe body, and beautiful face, and perfect teeth, and now Bucky’s sporting a half boner in the library. Great. 

Steve gets up, leaving his stuff on the table, and heads into the stacks. Bucky suddenly has an idea. He pulls out a pack of Post-Its and scribbles “You’re cute” on it and quickly sticks it on the page of Steve’s book. He sits back down like nothing happened hiding the sticky notes under his books. He stretches out his elbow, resting his head in his hand. Now he waits. 

When Steve comes back with a new book in his hand, he doesn’t notice the note at first. After he’s seated and pays attention to the book he left open is when he sees it. And blushes the most beautiful shade of red Bucky has ever seen. Steve’s cheeks heat as does his neck and Bucky wonders if the flush stretches down to his torso. 

Steve picks his head up and looks around, obviously searching for the note writer. Bucky pretends to be engrossed in his botany text, even underlining some words he has no idea if they’re important or not. It’s just a way to deflect suspicion from himself. He watches sideways as Steve peels off the sticky note and places it in the front flap of his textbook. 

Ten minutes pass and Bucky debates leaving, but then Steve gets up again, heading back into the rows of books. Bucky pulls out the sticky notes again and writes “Do you like guys? Nod yes or no.” He puts the note on Steve’s book and goes right back to where he was before. 

When Steve comes back this time, he sees the note right away. He looks around the library before actually reading it, though. When he sits down and reads it, Bucky swears he blushes brighter than before. Bucky waits for it, but Steve comes through and nods yes. Bucky does a mental fist pump. 

Bucky doesn’t have to wait long before Steve gets up once more. He scribbles “Top or Bottom” on a Post-It and sticks it on Steve’s book. When Steve comes back, he makes a covert thumbs down sign. 

Steve gets up once more almost immediately and Bucky furiously scribbles “wanna get out of here?” on the Post-It and sticks it on the book. When Steve comes back this time, he lets out a breathy, “Yes.” 

Bucky closes his book and shoves it in his backpack. He whispers, “Then let’s go,” and Steve looks over to him. The look of confusion on his face is adorable. Bucky slings his backpack over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Steve quickly does the same with his own books, leaving those he pulled from the stacks on the table. It’s probably a breach of some sort of library etiquette, but Bucky doesn’t have enough in him to care right now. 

They make their way to the exit, Steve trailing just a half step behind Bucky. Once they’re out into the world, Steve stops short and asks, “Why me?”

Bucky slinks up to Steve and places his hand on Steve’s cheek. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” Steve blushes again and avoids Bucky’s gaze. “And I’m going to find out just how far down that blush goes.”


	26. The Luggage Mix-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve get their luggage mixed up.

Bucky sits in the cafe with a suitcase. Not his suitcase, but Steve Rogers’. He’d gotten home from his business trip only to discover that he’d grabbed the wrong suitcase off the carousel. Luckily, the case’s owner had his phone number on the luggage tag, so he’d called the guy as soon as he realized his mistake to switch out bags. Luckily they both lived in Brooklyn.

For one thing, Bucky wasn’t in the habit of carrying prostate massagers with him when he travelled. He’d found it when he unpacked the first layer of clothing that, in his defense, looked a lot like his own clothing. A blue shirt, some black sweats were what they’d both packed. It was the pink polo shirt that first tipped him off, seeing as he didn’t own one. When he pulled it out and a black bag fell out of it, that was his second clue. 

He picked up the bag and turned it over in his hands. It read We-Vibe Vector. He cradles the bag, gently fondling it to see if he can suss out what its contents hold. Coming up empty, he opens the drawstring and dumps the contents out into the suitcase. 

Now, Bucky has never used a prostate massager, but he’s seen them on Adam & Eve, where he usually buys his lube and condoms. He’s just never splurged on one, although he has thought about it on occasion. 

The one that fell out of the carrying bag is black, and shaped like a V. It’s easy to see how it works where the one end would go into his ass, the other would fit snugly against his perineum. There’s a small remote control that goes with it. He hits the button and the massager bursts to life in his hand. He clicks through the settings, feeling the vibrations steadily getting stronger, and oh, even the perineum end vibrates. 

Bucky pulls out his phone and searches for the massager online. It’s expensive and has ten settings, each a stronger vibration than the last. Now that he has that information, he decides to look up Steve Rogers’ Facebook page. There are a couple of profiles with that name, but he finds a Steve Rogers listed in Park Slope - it fits with the address on the luggage tag. And fuck, is he good-looking. And interested in men. And apparently not in a relationship. Bucky’s life just got a little brighter thanks to Steve not knowing how to set his profile to Friends Only. 

So, Bucky sits in the cafe waiting on Steve Rogers to come switch out luggage. He’s a little early, a habit he’s had forever. When he sees Steve enter the cafe, he stands to greet him. “Hey, Steve.”

“Bucky?” Steve’s brow furrows at being greeted when he clearly wasn’t expecting it. 

“Sorry. I may have looked you up on Facebook. Coffee?” 

“Yeah, gimmie a sec.” Steve parks the luggage at the table then heads to the counter for a large black coffee. “I’m glad you called,” he says when he gets back to the table. 

“Well, I couldn’t very well keep your stuff.” He rakes his eyes over Steve’s torso. “Besides, it’s a little big on me.” 

“Oh, did you try stuff on?”

Bucky gives him a playful look. “One or two things.”

“I bet they looked good on you.” 

“Speaking of,” Bucky says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the remote to the prostate massager. He slides it across the table. Steve’s fingers brush his as he takes the remote. 

“Found that, did you?” Steve blushes beautifully, one hand going to his neck, obviously embarrassed. 

Bucky leans in a little. “I did more than that.” 

It takes Steve a second to catch up to Bucky’s meaning. “Are you - are you wearing it?” 

Bucky winks at him and Steve takes in a shaky breath, blowing it out unevenly. Steve fingers the remote before switching it on making Bucky inhale sharply. He looks around the shop to see if anyone noticed, but they’re all too engrossed in their own lives to notice Bucky. 

“You are,” Steve says, his voice dropping a full octave. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Bucky wiggles a bit in his chair enjoying the sensations the massager gives off. Steve kicks it up a notch and Bucky’s hand grips his coffee cup a little tighter. “Yeah?”

“I’m only a couple of blocks away. You wanna get out of here?” 

“So long as you don’t turn that thing up too high while we’re walking.”

“No promises, sweetheart.”


	27. The Hot Mailman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finds a gift in the mailbox.

“Hey, hot mailman! Yo, Barnes!” 

Bucky turns at the sound of Tony’s voice calling him. “What’s up?” Tony tosses a gift pouch to him, which he catches with ease. “What’s this?” Bucky looks at the tag on it. To the hot mailman. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s not for me,” Tony says. 

“Why are you giving it to me?” Bucky narrows his eyes at Tony. It’s unusual for Tony to be nice like that. 

“I know I’m a jerk, but I’m not a douche. I cover your route today and get a gift? Not likely.” 

“Who’s it from?”

“I don’t remember.” 

“Tony.”

“Fine. Rogers. 385 Willoughby.” 

Tony wanders off while Bucky opens the pouch. He reaches in and pulls out a small stack of cellophane wrapped cookies with a note on it. 

These are some of my favorite cookies. I hope you like them. The ingredient list is on the back in case you have any allergies. ~ Steve Rogers

Well, that’s nice. He looks at the list, not that he has any allergies, opens the bag and pulls out a cookie. Some kind of swirly chocolate chip thing. He gives it a sniff - it smells okay, so he takes a bite. And holy hell, it’s delicious. He’s never tasted anything like it. It’s chewy and has just enough give for it to be perfect. 

He’ll put a thank you note in Rogers’ mail tomorrow when he’s back on his route. 

The day after that, there’s a note addressed to him. 

Bucky - 

I’m glad you liked the cookies. They’re my mother’s recipe, and I only make them on special occasions. 

Steve

Bucky wonders if he should leave another note for Steve. He’s kind of intrigued, the guy did call him hot after all. But what if Steve is a troll? He racks his brain to think of a way to get a glimpse of Steve, but nothing is forthcoming. 

Over the next several days, small packages begin to arrive at Steve’s mailbox. It takes him a few days, but Bucky finally notices that the packages are gradually getting bigger with each passing day, but none are so big that they won’t fit in the mailbox. 

It’s on the tenth day of Steve receiving packages that one finally shows up that won’t fit in the box. So, Bucky puts the truck in park and makes his way up the driveway to Steve’s door. He tucks his hair back behind his ear so it’s not hanging in his face. 

He sets the box down on the porch and presses the doorbell as a courtesy. He doubts Steve is even home seeing as it’s a Wednesday. Not that he knows what Steve does, but he guesses it’s some kind of M-F, 9-5 type job. 

He’s walking back to the truck when he hears the door open and a “Thanks Bucky,” from behind him. He turns around to see Steve - at least he hopes it’s Steve because the man is gorgeous. 

“Steve?” 

“Yeah. Nice to meet you.” Steve runs his hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, you, too,” Bucky says. “Thanks for the cookies. They were really good.” 

“I’m glad you liked them.” 

They stare at each other for a moment. Bucky has no idea what to say. Apparently, neither does Steve. The silence stretches out until they both start talking at the same time. 

“Do you want -” Steve starts.

“I better -” Bucky stops. “Sorry. Do I want what?”

Bucky sees the blush creep up into Steve’s face as he touches the back of his neck. “Do you want to get dinner sometime?” 

Bucky’s breath hitches. Hell yes, he does. “How’s tonight?” 

Steve’s face lights up. “Tonight is perfect. Elm Street Grille at seven?”

“Done.” Bucky shuffles his feet. “I should get back,” he says, indicating the mail truck. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Steve puts his hand up as a half wave, and picks up his package. “Thanks for this,”

“Absolutely,” Bucky says. He turns and heads back toward the truck. He only trips on his feet once, and he looks back to see if Steve is still there and saw. Of course, he is. Bucky waves and hops back into the truck.


	28. Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sounds emanating from his neighbor’s apartment are going to kill Steve.

The sounds emanating from his neighbor’s apartment are going to kill Steve. 

He likes his neighbor, Bucky, he really does, but if he doesn’t stop with the noise, Steve is going to have to kill him. 

Or come on to him. He’s not sure which. 

For the past two weeks, Bucky has been masturbating, loudly, on the other side of their shared wall at all different hours. Sometimes it’s first thing in the morning, sometimes it’s mid-afternoon, occasionally it’s late at night, but the most popular time seems to be right now, at five o’clock in the evening. 

Steve’s sitting on the sofa, trying to finish up his work for the day. Only he can’t concentrate because of the moaning coming from Bucky’s place. 

Fuck it. 

He closes his laptop, placing it on the table in front of him. He puts his head in his hands, willing the sounds to stop. He doesn’t want to listen, not really, but he just can’t help it. Bucky is loud, not to mention hot, and Steve may have a little bit of a crush on him. 

On a particularly loud groan, Steve flops back into the sofa and throws his hands up in the air. They land on his thighs, and he rubs them nervously. He shouldn’t do what he’s thinking about doing. He’s thinking about masturbating to the sounds of Bucky masturbating. 

It makes him feel dirty. 

But who’s gonna know? 

He ultimately decides against it. Maybe when he’s alone in his bedroom later, but it feels wrong to do it now. Now, he’ll just be content to listen. So, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly, savoring the noises coming from the apartment next door. 

He’s just about to give in and touch himself when he hears, clear as day, “STEVE!” followed by a low groan.

Jesus. Was Bucky thinking about him while he was jacking off? 

Fuck that’s hot. 

He ignores his own half hard dick and makes his way to the door. He’s a man on a mission now. He flings it open, takes two steps to the left and pounds on Bucky’s door with his fist. 

“Just a minute,” comes Bucky’s voice. When he opens the door, he’s dressed only in a pair of sweats, and his chest is flushed. “Steve. Hey. What’s up?” He is slightly out of breath. 

Steve surges forward, takes Bucky’s face in his hands and kisses him. It takes a moment, but Bucky’s hands find their way to Steve’s hips. They kiss for several seconds before Steve finally pulls back, resting his forehead on Bucky’s. 

“I was wondering when you were gonna come over,” Bucky says, a smile on his lips. “I haven’t jerked off so much since high school.” 

“Goddamn,” Steve says. “You couldn’t have just asked like a normal human being?” 

“I’m much more subtle, Rogers.” 

“There was nothing subtle about what you just did.”

“I was getting tired of waiting for you. Want to come in?” 

“God, yes.”


	29. The Motorcycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve hears him before he sees him. Some asshole on a motorcycle weaves in and out of traffic, generally flouting the rules of the road.

Steve hears him before he sees him. Some asshole on a motorcycle weaves in and out of traffic, generally flouting the rules of the road. As he checks the rearview mirror and watches the guy leaning in and out of cars, his blood boils. What makes this guy think he’s so special that he can do that? Steve’s got half a mind to whip open his door to stop the guy from racing down the street.

They get separated by a traffic light, but as soon as it turns green, the guy on the bike shoots off like a rocket until he’s right next to Steve’s door. He looks into Steve’s truck but doesn’t speed up, instead keeps pace with Steve. This just makes Steve angrier. 

To make matters worse, when Steve pulls off into the parking lot of his destination, so does the guy on the bike, parking two spaces over. Steve throws open his door, stomps out, and slams it shut. 

“What’s wro -” 

It’s as far as Steve gets because the guy takes off his helmet and Steve swears it’s like something out of a movie. The world seems to go into slow motion as the helmet comes off and the guy shakes his shoulder-length hair out. He turns to face Steve, and Steve’s jaw practically drops. Long hair, blue eyes, a bit of stubble. Totally Steve’s type. 

“Hey, man,” the guy says, turning to put his helmet on the back of the bike. 

“Y- you could get hurt driving like that,” Steve says. It’s the best he’s got now that he’s been struck dumb by the guy’s looks. 

“Just having a bit of fun,” he says. “You going to Hops, too?” Steve nods. “Why don’t you join me for a burger and a beer?”

Steve considers it for about a half a second before saying, “Sure.” He was eating alone anyway, so why not? “I’m Steve.” He holds out a hand for the man to shake. 

“Bucky.” He takes the offered hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. Not really, considering how the guy was weaving in and out of traffic, but Steve’s willig to let it slide now that he sees how hot the guy is. Which, of course, is a stupid reason to forgive a transgression, but whatever. It’s what Steve’s going with. 

“I just saw you a few lights back and wanted to catch up,” the man says. 

Steve furrows his brow. “Do what now?”

“I thought you were hot. I wanted to catch up to you to see if I had a shot with you.”

Well, all righty, then. That’s new. 

“Do I?”

“Do you what?” Steve asks. 

Bucky laughs. “Do I have a shot with you.” 

Steve blushes and nods. 

“Excellent. Let’s go get that beer.” Bucky swings his leg off the motorcycle, claps Steve on the back, and starts off toward the restaurant. “You comin’?”

“Yeah.” Steve jogs to catch up. Maybe lunch won’t be so bad after all.


	30. The Mug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve picks up the wrong mug.

Steve likes the office space he rents. It’s one of those open source workspace places with several offices for rent, usually to single workers like him, who want an actual professional mailing address. There’s a meeting room he can utilize for clients, a receptionist at the front desk, and a communal kitchen with a Keurig, fridge, and dishwasher. It serves his needs well. 

He knows a few of the other tenants, but not all of them. He kind of wishes he knew the new guy, Bucky, he thinks he heard someone call him. Their paths haven’t crossed yet. He’s not even sure what kind of business Bucky has. He just knows that Bucky is stupid hot with a broad chest, beefy thighs, and long hair that Steve wants to run his fingers through. 

He sighs. Maybe he’ll get up enough nerve to introduce himself. Or maybe he’ll just cower in his office like the coward he is, since he’s nothing special. Just a short, skinny guy with a graphic design degree and a few clients to his name. Bucky is probably a success at whatever he does. Guys that look like him usually are. 

Steve makes his way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. His mug is still in the dishwasher from the night before. He reaches in and sees the cursive “A” on a mug, which is his “Always” mug. He’d wanted it for the Harry Potter nerd that he is, but he specifically didn’t want the Deathly Hallows to form the “A”, so he’d made a mug off RedBubble using a simple cursive font. 

He sets the mug on the grate of the Keurig, facing away from him as he holds his mug with his left hand, selects a breakfast blend pod and pops it into the machine. As it brews, he pours a creamer container into the mug, the hazelnut flavored liquid swirling with the coffee. 

Once it’s done, he turns to go when he almost runs into Bucky. “Oh! Sorry,” he apologizes. 

“No worries,” Bucky says. “Steve, right?” Steve nods. “Bucky. Nice to meet you.” 

“You, too.” Steve avoids his eyes, certain he’s blushing. He can feel the heat rush to his cheeks. He brushes his hair off his forehead. “See you around,” he says as he hightails it out of the kitchen. God, he’s pathetic. 

“Hey, Gail,” he says, passing her on the way back to his office. She gives him a look he can’t quite decipher. He gets a similar look from Todd and Barry, too. He wonders what’s up. He’s just sat down at his desk when Bucky pops into his door frame, wearing the most shit eating grin Steve’s ever seen. 

“I think you took my mug by mistake,” Bucky says to him. He tips the mug he’s holding to Steve and Steve sees that facing him is his “Always” mug. Well, then what mug did he take? He turns the mug around to see what’s written on it and nearly throws up. There, on the front of the mug in pretty script is the word: 

“Anal?” 

“Oh, my god,” he says. He sets the mug down as far away from himself as possible and puts his head in his hands. “No wonder I got those looks this morning.” 

Bucky just laughs. “Yeah, sorry about that. I accidentally brought this one from home yesterday and popped it into the dishwasher without thinking.” 

“I’m never going to live this down,” Steve says looking up at Bucky. 

“You’ll be fine,” Bucky says, picking up the mug and taking a sip. “So?” he asks expectantly. 

“‘So,’ what?”

Bucky tips the mug to him again, his meaning clear. Steve swallows and thinks about his answer for a moment. He resolutely does not look at Bucky when he mutters a barely audible “Yes.” 

Bucky’s smile turns devilish. “We’ll talk later,” he says stepping out of the doorway. 

Steve watches him go and wonders how he’s going to get any work done today.


	31. Musical Plants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you had told Bucky seventy two hours ago that his team of landscapers would be loading upwards of twenty three hundred plants into the local auditorium, he would’ve said you were crazy.

If you had told Bucky seventy two hours ago that his team of landscapers would be loading upwards of twenty three hundred plants into the local auditorium, he would’ve said you were crazy. 

And yet here he is. 

When he’d been approached about undertaking such a large task, he thought the man was kidding. He’d introduced himself as Steve Rogers, managing director of the Brooklyn theatre where the event was to take place. Bucky had laughed in his stupidly handsome face. 

He gets that people sometimes do weird things, and COVID has an even weirder effect on people, but playing chamber music for an auditorium of plants? Specifically leafy greens? Insane. 

But Steve was so earnest in his request - not to mention willing to pay well for the service - that Bucky said he’d do it. He’d called in every favor he had to assemble a team large enough to handle the job. 

He’s just set the last plant in the last row and pushes the trolly up the vomitorium - thank you high school drama for that tidbit leftover in his brain - when Steve finds him. 

“Are you staying?” he asks, his face awash with hopefulness. 

“I hadn’t planned on it, but if you’d like me to, I can.” 

“I know you don’t think this is a worthwhile endeavor, but you might change your mind if you hear what we’re doing.” Steve gestures to the stage where the musicians are setting up their sheet music, fully dressed in their formalwear. They exit the stage as soon as they’re done. 

Bucky rolls his eyes internally. This is truly the stupidest thing he’s ever heard of, a concert for plants, but Steve is nice, not to mention hot, so he figures he can stay for the show. “Sure. Just let me get rid of this trolley and send my guys to lunch,” he says. 

Steve’s face lights up. “Perfect. I’ll meet you at the back of the auditorium.” He claps his hands and points up the vom. 

By the time Bucky makes his way back to the concert hall, Steve waits for him, smiling widely. “I’m glad you decided to stay,” he says, flicking his eyes down to Bucky’s lips. 

Did he just imagine that? Did Steve just check him out a little bit? Huh. Maybe staying was the right idea after all. 

“Just wait,” Steve says. “It’s going to be beautiful.” Bucky nods. 

The lights go down, as if it were a real concert, and the musicians make their entrance. Applause plays over the sound system as they take their seats, and the applause dies down. The male violin player is clearly leading them as they start playing off of his cue. 

It takes a few bars of playing, but Bucky thinks he may be swayed after all. The music is mournful, sorrowful, and Bucky can’t help but be moved by it. He thinks he gets it. The music is a way of letting this shitty pandemic know that we’ll bend, not break. And if people can’t gather in groups just yet, well, it’s been said that plants respond to music, right? 

He’s so caught up in the music that he doesn’t realize he’s crying right away. It’s not until he feels a tear fall on the corner of his mouth does it hit him. He sniffs and wipes his hand across his face, hoping that Steve doesn’t notice. 

But of course he does. Steve places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. Bucky nods and wipes away another tear. He hates himself for crying like this. 

The music ends and the recorded applause plays again as the musicians take a bow. Bucky is about to exit the auditorium, when he feels Steve’s hand on his bicep. “Please stay,” he says. 

Bucky nods. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.” 

“It’s okay. Sometimes music has that effect on people.” He loosens his grip on Bucky’s arm, but leaves it there as if he’s trying to make him stay. “You want to go get something to eat and talk about it?” 

“I’d like that.”


	32. The Naked Neighbor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve spies his neighbor. Naked.

Steve stares idly out his window, coffee in hand. It’s a lazy Saturday morning, and he’s wondering what to do today. He catches sight of his neighbor’s apartment across the way. They’re close enough that he can see in, but not so close that he can make out too much detail without seeming like a creeper. 

But then. As Steve sits there on the window bench, he sees him. His neighbor walking through his apartment completely starkers. If there were any coffee in his mouth, Steve thinks he would’ve done an actual spit take. 

He’s seen his neighbor before. Even says a lackluster “Hey” to him as they pass in the lobby. But this. This is new information. It was only a fleeting glance, but it’s enough to make Steve’s mouth water. 

The neighbor walks back across the window with a bottle of water and Steve’s own thirst only grows. He always thought the guy was good looking, but seeing him in the all together is something else. His ass is nice and round, and his cock sways while he walks back through the apartment. 

Steve sits for another five minutes contemplating his hot neighbor, coffee cooling in his hand, when he catches his neighbor, fully dressed, exiting his front door. Steve practically drops the coffee on the table, grabs his keys, and sprints to his door. 

As soon as he hits the hallway, the elevator door closes, so he runs to the stairs, practically flinging himself down them in an effort to get to the bottom before the elevator does. Five flights, and he just barely makes it. 

The door opens and his neighbor exits the car. 

“Hey,” he says. He tries not to grin like a madman, but he’s not sure he succeeds. 

“Oh, hey,” Neighbor says. “Sorry you missed the elevator.” 

“Nah. It’s okay.” What the hell else does he say to him? “Where you headed?”

“I was going to grab something to eat at the bakery up the street.”

“You want some company?” Shit. He must sound like some kind of maniac, all out of breath with that crazy grin. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Neighbor says as Steve furrows his brow. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to get you to notice me for weeks now. Guess walking around naked was the way to go.”

Did he hear that right? He didn’t, did he? “You -?” 

“Uh-huh. Bucky, by the way.”

“Steve. And I could use a cup of coffee.”


	33. The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a nightmare.

As Steve shuffles toward the bathroom at 3:25am, he notices a light on in the living room. He could’ve sworn he turned them off when he went to bed. So he goes to do his business and then turn off the light. He stops when he sees Bucky sitting on the sofa, knees pulled up to his chest. 

Steve knows his roommate suffers from the occasional nightmare, and this must be one of those nights. 

“Hey, Buck,” he says, coming around the sofa. He sits at the opposite end from Bucky. 

“I had a bad dream again,” he says. 

“You want to talk about it?” He never does, but Steve always asks. 

Bucky shakes his head then rests his cheek on his knee, looking at Steve. Steve often wonders what Bucky’s dreams could possibly be about that they keep him awake like this some nights. Could they be of something happening to his family or friends, or are they just some generic monster dream? 

“Could I - snuggle you?” Bucky asks suddenly. 

“Do what now?” Bucky wants to snuggle? Not quite how Steve imagined he’d get closer to his roommate, but okay. 

“Never mind.” Bucky turns his face away. 

Steve scoots closer to him, right up next to him and puts his arm around him. “It’s okay. If that’s what you need, that’s fine.” 

Bucky relaxes a little into Steve’s embrace, but he stays balled up. “It was just so real, you know?” 

“I know how dreams can be, yeah.” Steve lets his hand wander to Bucky’s hair and runs his fingers through it with a gentle touch. 

They’re quiet for a moment before Bucky says, “What they did to you….” and trails off.

Steve sits up a little bit straighter and pulls Bucky closer. “Your dream was about me?” Bucky nods. “What happened?” Bucky takes a breath like he’s about to start, but doesn’t. “Buck?”

It’s then that Bucky unfurls from hugging his knees to hugging Steve. He hugs Steve so tightly that Steve has to move to get him to loosen his grip, which thankfully he does, but doesn’t let go. 

Bucky sighs before saying, “This isn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I like you, Steve.” 

“I like you, too.” 

“No. I like you, like you.” Bucky tries to pull away from him, but Steve is having none of it. 

Steve’s heart rate picks up and he smiles into Bucky’s hair, giving his head a kiss for good measure. “I like you, like you, too, Jerk.” 

This time, Bucky does manage to extricate himself from Steve’s arms, and he looks up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve opens his arms again, a clear invitation for Bucky to snuggle back up, which he does. “You want to talk about that dream?”

“No.” 

“Okay,” Steve says quietly. “We can just stay here.” 

He strokes Bucky’s hair until he hears soft snoring from him. Steve smiles and wonders what the morning will bring.


	34. Panty Theif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Bucky pulls up to his house, he takes note of his neighbor, Steve, wearing only a towel around his waist, his hand holding it in place, sprinting across his yard.

As Bucky pulls up to his house, he takes note of his neighbor, Steve, wearing only a towel around his waist, his hand holding it in place, sprinting across his yard. 

“Well, that’s interesting,” he says to himself as he puts the car in park. He watches as Steve crosses into his own yard, wondering what the fuck is going on. Not that he’s complaining. Neighbor Steve is stupid hot. Bucky hops out of his car, taking his briefcase with him. “Steve?” he asks. 

Steve stops short and stares at Bucky. “What?” He sounds pretty annoyed. 

“You okay?” Bucky tries not to sound too amused, but it’s quite frankly, a hell of a situation. 

“Your cat is a menace!” Steve throws his hands up in the air, and the towel slips a bit before he’s able to catch it again and tighten it around his waist. 

Bucky’s mouth waters. He’s fantasized about his neighbor on several occasions, and he just got a glimpse at the top of Steve’s junk. “Alpine? What’d she do?” 

As if on cue, a white ball of fluff runs up to Bucky and rubs up against his leg. He bends down and picks her up. She’s got something in her mouth, and Bucky gently coaxes it away from her and sets her back down on the ground where she runs off again. 

What she had in her mouth is some kind of pink fabric. Bucky unballs it and discovers it’s a pair of pink panties. Bucky raises his eyebrow and looks at Steve. “Yours?” he asks unable to keep the mirth out of his voice. 

Steve stomps forward and yanks them out of Bucky’s hand. “Thank you,” he mumbles angrily. 

Bucky drops his voice an octave. “Figured you’d be a black lace kind of guy, Steve.” 

Steve pauses, his eyes suddenly dilating, a fact that Bucky is going to file away for later use. “Laundry day,” Steve says sheepishly. “I should go. Thank you for these,” he says holding the panties up and backing away from Bucky towards his own house. 

“Sure. See ya,” Bucky says, turning to his own house. As he hits the top porch step, Alpine shows up again. He leans over to scratch her head. “Good kitty.”


	35. The Parking Meter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes up short with change for the meter.

Steve pulls into a parking spot right in front of the restaurant. Score! He checks his watch - he’s on time for his lunch with Sam. 

He hops out of the car, ready to put change in the meter. Only, when he checks his pockets, he realizes, he forgot to put change in them. Dammit. He goes back to the car to check for any loose change there. Nada. 

Well fuck. He goes back to the meter and stares at it as if it will give him any answers. He actually thunks his head on the thing. No answers are forthcoming. 

It’s then that he notices a guy at the meter next to him. He’s cute, Steve thinks. Not the time, though. He knows how brutal parking enforcement can be, and he really doesn’t want to get a ticket. 

“Um, hey,” Steve says, going for lost puppy. “You don’t happen to have a quarter, do you?”

“What’s that?” the man asks. 

“Just one, so I can run inside and get change.” He rubs his hands on his thighs.

The man cocks an eyebrow at him. “You in the habit of begging for change?” he teases. 

“I forgot to put change in my pocket this morning, and I don’t have a quarter. And parking enforcement around here…”

“Say no more,” the man says. He closes the gap between them, and pulls out his wallet. He swipes a card in the meter. “There. You’ve got the full two hours,” he says pushing a button. 

Steve feels like an idiot. “I didn’t realize you could do that.” 

The man’s smile is blinding. “You managed to miss the card reader?”

“Apparently, I’m not the smartest,” Steve says. He pulls out his own wallet to give the man two dollars. 

“Nah, that’s okay,” he says. “Two bucks won’t break the bank.” 

“Thank you,” Steve says. “I appreciate it.” 

“Yeah?” The man gets a gleam in his eye that Steve can’t mistake for anything but lust. “How appreciative?” The man steps a little closer. 

“Buy you a cup of coffee?” Steve asks nervously, flicking his eyes down to the man’s lips.   
“That’s a start,” he says. He runs his hand down Steve’s arm and Steve thinks he just might combust. 

“I’m meeting a friend for lunch right now, but after?” He jerks his thumb towards the restaurant. 

The man bites his bottom lip and looks Steve up and down. “Tell you what. I’ll be across the street in the bookstore. You come find me when you’re done.” 

“Okay - “ he pauses, realizing he doesn’t know the man’s name. 

“Bucky.” 

“Steve.” 

“Don’t be too long, Steve. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”


	36. Party Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has an interesting ice breaker for his party.

Steve is nervous. More nervous than he’s been in a while. He’s pretty sure the only person he’s going to know at this party is Sam. And that’s going to suck. But, he promised Sam he’d come, so here he is, trudging up the stairs to Sam’s apartment wearing his best dress shirt and khakis. He hopes he’s not too out of place with the other people. 

“Steve!” Sam says, opening the door. “So glad you could make it. Come on in!” He drapes his arm over Steve’s small frame and drags him inside the apartment. 

He leads Steve over to the bar counter where he’s got three colors of plastic cups set up - blue, green, and orange. Steve is about to grab an orange one, but Sam stops him. 

“Careful there. Make sure you take the right one,” Sam says. He points to the paper towel underneath the stacks. 

Steve reads the words written there and sighs. “Really, Sam?” Under the blue stack is witten TOP, under the green stack is VERS and under the orange is BOTTOM. 

“What better way to break the ice?” He claps Steve on the back, sending him forward a step. 

Steve sighs and takes a blue cup, filling it with whatever alcohol is in the punch bowl. He knows he doesn’t look like a typical top - he’s only 5’7” and scrawny - and all the guys he’s dated (if he can call it that, one and done isn’t really dating) assume he’s a twinky bottom. He guesses it’s better to know up front. He shrugs and finds a wall to lean against. 

He looks around the room and confirms he doesn’t know anyone else at the party, so he just sort of resigns himself to standing in a corner all night and watching from the shadows. No reason to get your hopes up. 

It’s about a half hour later when it happens. 

Steve spots the man as soon as he comes through the door. Tall, long hair pulled back into a ponytail, a chest that the man’s henley barely contains, blue eyes, and a bit of scruff. He’s easily five or six inches taller than Steve. He’s beautiful. 

Steve scoffs. Like he has a chance. A guy like that is a top. Maybe, maybe a vers. 

He watches as Sam explains to him the cup system. The man laughs and Steve watches as the corners of his eyes crinkle, and Steve now has some new spank bank material for the next few weeks. He stares as the man looks at the cup colors and chooses an orange one. 

The guys is a bottom. Holy shit. 

Steve watches discretely as the man surveys the room, Steve assuming he’s checking for people he knows, just like he did when he first arrived. Steve stares into his cup and takes a sip, willing the man to talk to him. Steve already knows he’s not going to make the first move. 

The man stops near the only woman at the party. They hug and exchange pleasantries. Steve feels a little jealous, and his hand tightens around his cup. The side of the cup caves with a pop, but he manages not to spill any liquid. That would’ve been embarrassing. He gives the sides of the cup a squeeze to pop it back out. 

He’s just about made up his mind that he’s going to leave, when he looks up and sees the man crossing the room towards him. Steve sucks in a breath as he feels heat rush to his cheeks. 

“Hey,” the man says as he leans on the wall next to Steve. 

“Hey.” 

“I’m Bucky.”

“Steve.” 

“Nice to meet you, Steve.” Bucky clinks cups with Steve and takes a sip of his drink. “How do you know Sam?”

Steve prays he doesn’t trip over his tongue. “We, uh, we went to college together.” 

“Cool.”

“What about you?”

“Sam’s my gym buddy. We work out three times a week.” 

And if that doesn’t just put a picture into Steve’s head. Bucky in workout clothes, maybe a pair of bike shorts and a tank top, all sweaty from lifting weights, because this man has to lift, with his bulk. And there goes more material for the spank bank. Steve just gulps in response. 

“I couldn’t help but notice your cup,” Bucky says leaning down a little so only Steve can hear him. 

“Y-yours, too.” Steve nods his head towards Bucky’s own cup. 

“How about we spend maybe fifteen more minutes for appearance’s sake, and then we get out of here?” He looks down at Steve and winks. Winks at him, and what is Steve supposed to do with that?

“I, uh...I’d like that,” is what finally comes out of his mouth, and he can hardly believe what he’s saying. 

“I thought you might.”


	37. Pepper Spray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is well and truly lost.

Steve is well and truly lost. He’s gotten off at the wrong platform in Flatbush. It’s not completely foreign territory, but he looks around and has no idea where he needs to be, and the fact that it’s dark isn’t helping matters. He’s at Cortelyou Road and needs to be at Foster Avenue. He’s not sure how many blocks away he is. He decides the best course of action is to ask someone. 

Now, anyone not from New York will tell you how rude New Yorkers are. But Steve knows better. New Yorkers are some of the best, most welcoming people on the planet. He’s lived in Brooklyn all his life, and he’s never had an issue with strangers. 

Except for today. Today, for some reason, he’s getting the cold shoulder from everyone he’s tried to ask for directions so far. They’ve all just kept walking. Whether it’s because it’s cold out and they want to get to their destination quickly, or whether it’s that it’s dark and everyone is on edge, or it’s something else, Steve doesn’t know, but it’s frustrating. 

He realizes after the fact that catching that guy on the shoulder to ask directions was wrong. He never should have done it, because now he’s on the ground, clawing at his eyes, having been pepper sprayed by the man. 

“Oh, my god,” he hears the man say. “I’m so sorry! I thought you were someone else!” 

“Aaargh!” is all Steve can get out. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the man keeps saying. “I’ve got a bottle of water, let’s flush out your eyes.” The man leads him to a chair on a restaurant patio and sits him down. “Tilt your head back so I can get the water on your face.” 

Steve tilts his head back and reluctantly lowers his hands. He feels some cooling water touch his skin and it feels instantly better. 

“Are you wearing contacts?” the man asks him? Steve says he isn’t. “Okay. You need to open your eyes so we can flush them out. Can you do that?” 

Steve opens an eye and lets the water flush out the pepper spray. He does the same with the other eye. They feel better - not great, but better and he can open his eyes again. He looks up at the man who both pepper sprayed and helped him. Steve’s vision is a little fuzzy, but he thinks the guy is hot. 

“You always pepper spray people trying to ask for directions?” Steve asks. He blinks his eyes several times in an effort to shake off the fuzziness. 

The man sits next to him. “Man, I am so sorry. You have no idea. You startled me, and I just reacted. I’m so sorry.”

“Jumpy much?” Steve asks. He doesn’t want to rub his eyes anymore, so he pulls at the corners of them with his fingers. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” the guy says. 

“Buy me a cup of coffee and I’ll be the judge of that,” Steve says. 

The guy furrows his brow. “Did you just ask me out?”

“See, normally, you’d be able to tell, but since some guy pepper sprayed me, I’m betting my game face is a little off. I’d wink, but it would probably just look like I had a bug caught in my eye.”

The guy smiles. “Okay. There’s a coffee shop a few doors down. You can tell me where you needed to go, and I’ll tell you why I’m so jumpy.” 

“Deal. Steve.”

“Bucky.”


	38. The Photoshoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha hires Steve and Bucky for a photoshoot.

“Just through here,” Natasha says. 

She’s leading Bucky into the studio where she’ll be photographing him and another man in a sexy shoot for a magazine. He doesn’t know who the other man is, only that he’s already in the studio waiting on them. 

The only thing about this shoot? Both Bucky and the other man are blindfolded with a strip of black satin. They’ll be meeting each other this way, allowed to explore each other for a bit and then the blindfolds will come off and they’ll shoot. 

“Bucky, Steve. Steve, Bucky.” Bucky holds out his hand to shake Steve’s hand and Natasha guides it to Steve’s. 

“Nice to meet you,” Bucky says. 

“You, too.” Steve’s grip is firm, his hand rough, as though he works with them when not modeling. 

“Now,” Natasha says as they drop hands. “I want you to just...touch each other. I want you to explore each other.” 

Bucky reaches out tentatively and his fingers find Steve’s chest, and dance their way over to his bicep. He gives it a squeeze. “Oh,” he says. Steve’s arm is huge. 

Steve’s hand finds the one on his arm and he takes Bucky’s hand, lacing their fingers together. They stay locked for only a moment as Steve runs his hand up Bucky’s arm to his shoulder. 

*click click click click*

They hear the camera’s shutter go off and Bucky turns to the sound, his brow furrowed. 

“Sorry,” Natasha says. “The image was too good not to get. Do you mind if I have you keep the blindfolds on for this? I think it presents a stronger image.” 

Bucky nods, and assumes Steve does the same as he says nothing.

Natasha pulls on Bucky’s arm and leads him to...something. He’s not sure what. His legs hit on something hard. He crouches to feel what it is. He’s not sure, but he thinks it’s a bathtub? She lets go of him and must lead Steve over to the same thing as Bucky hears a dull thud as Steve’s legs hit the side. 

“Now,” Natasha says. “It’s a bathtub. Steve, you get in one end, Bucky, you get in the other, then straddle Steve’s legs. You’re allowed to lift your blindfold just enough to get into the tub so you don’t hurt yourselves. No looking at each other.” 

Bucky lets Steve get in first. Once Steve says he’s settled, Bucky lifts his blindfold a fraction of an inch to get in without killing himself. He sees Steve’s legs are clad in black jeans, similar to the ones he’s wearing, and a pair of black work boots. Bucky steps into the tub and sets his feet on either side of Steve’s. From there, he puts the blindfold back down and crouches down to find the sides of the tub with his hands. He eases himself down so his knees are on either side of Steve’s thighs. 

“Perfect,” Nat says. 

Bucky scoots up so that he’s closer to Steve. He kneels up so that he can feel Steve’s face close to his chest and Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s torso. 

*click click click click* 

Steve leans into Bucky’s chest and arches his back while Buckyu leans into him. Bucky finds the edges of the tub and grips the edges tightly. Steve’s hands dip lower to cup his ass and Bucky sucks in a breath. He drops down so his ass is on Steve’s thighs and their faces nearly touch. They share each other’s air for a moment and they nuzzle noses, laughing. 

*click click click click*

“Good. Good,” Natasha says. “Okay. I’m going to get you out of the tub and we’ll take this to the bed.” She guides each of them out of the tub, once again only lifting the blindfold enough to get out safely. She leads them over to the bed, placing each of them on opposite sides. She directs Bucky to lay down, his knees and shins dangling off the edge. She places Steve opposite him so that when she guides his hand to Bucky’s face, they are upside down.

They laugh again as they rub noses upside down this time. Bucky reaches back and finds Steve’s torso and places his hands flat on his pecs. Steve runs his hands down Bucky’s chest to his stomach. Their faces are so close they’re nearly kissing. 

It’s then that Bucky realizes he’s half hard. 

*click click click click*

“Steve, turn to your left and lay on your back. You won’t hit Bucky.” Natasha’s voice is sure, and Bucky feels Steve flop down next to him. They reach out for each other’s hand, finding it after a little fumbling.

“Actually,” Natasha starts. “I don’t like that position. Could you both get to the top of the bed and face each other or do you need help?” 

They both answer that they can get there on their own. Steve moves first, and Bucky follows, crawling up the bed.

*click click click click*

Bucky lays down next to Steve and reaches out to find his face. Only he estimates wrong and suddenly his fingers are in Steve’s mouth. It doesn’t seem to bother Steve, though, as he suckles on Bucky’s fingers. Bucky sucks in another breath. 

*click click click click*

Bucky throws a leg over Steve’s and snuggles into his side. Steve pulls Bucky’s fingers out of his mouth and leans forward, searching for Bucky’s lips. When he finds them, he kisses Bucky gently. Bucky does his best not to kiss him back with too much force, lest he throw off the vibe of the shoot. 

“Jesus, that’s hot,” Natasha mumbles, clicking away with the camera. After another few clicks, she announces that she’s done. They can take off their blindfolds. Bucky sits up, feeling Steve do the same, and turns to face his partner. 

“Hi,” Bucky says, blushing.

“Hey.” Steve reaches over and runs his thumb over Bucky’s lips. “Don’t suppose you want to go somewhere else?”

Bucky’s tongue flicks over the pad of Steve’s thumb. “I’d love to.” 

Natasha gives a silent fist pump.


	39. The Plumber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's toilet requires a plumber.

“It’s in here,” Steve says, guiding the plumber to the bathroom. The toilet has been running constantly for about a week, and Steve has no idea how to fix it. He tried a quick fix he found on youtube, but it’s still running. 

“And you say you tried lifting the float arm?” The plumber’s voice - Bucky, according to his nametag - is muffled behind a large respirator mask. Ah, life in the time of Covid. 

“I did. I looked, and the float was below the overflow.” At least he sounds like he sort of knows what he’s talking about. He doesn’t want to sound like a total noob. 

“Good to know,” Bucky says. “Give me a minute or two and I’ll let you know what I find.”

Steve takes the dismissal and leaves Bucky to the half bath just off the kitchen, idly wondering what Bucky looks like behind the mask. His eyes are a striking shade of blue. Steve shakes away the thought and goes to the dining room where his laptop is set up and goes back to work. 

When Steve glances at the clock, he sees Bucky has been in the bathroom for a good half an hour. That seems a little long to him, so he goes to investigate. He’s just about opened his mouth to ask, when his breath catches in his throat. 

Bucky squats in front of the toilet, writing in a small notebook. He’s pulled the respirator off, and his hair falls forward into his face. His pants droop a little in the back, and it’s there that Steve can’t tear his eyes away from. 

Bucky is wearing panties. Pink satin ones from the looks of it. 

“H-how’s it going?” Steve asks once he regains his composure. 

“Oh, hey,” Bucky says, turning to look at Steve. “Should I put the respirator back on? I’ve been tested every day this week.” 

Once again, Steve is at a loss for words. Without the mask, Bucky is beautiful. His blue eyes contrast with the scruff of beard he’s sporting, and the way his hair falls, framing his face? Steve just might be a little bit in love. 

“No, that’s fine,” Steve says. “I haven’t been exposed to anyone.”

“Thank god. That thing is claustrophobic.” Bucky shifts his feet, stays squatting, but puts his back to the wall. Steve laments the loss of the view. 

“What do you know?” Steve asks. “Is it an easy fix? I hope.”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I was just taking notes, and I think you’re going to need a new toilet.” 

“Really?” Steve never thought of a toilet as going bad before.

“Yeah. The guts are pretty corroded. It’s easier - and cheaper - to just put in a new toilet.”

“Oh. Okay.” He leans on the doorframe and crosses his arms. “What do I need to do from here?”

“Well, I’d send you to Home Depot or Lowe’s to find a new one. Once you pick out what you want, call me, I’ll go pick it up and come install it. Shouldn’t be more than a few hundred dollars, installed.” 

Steve thunks his head on the frame. “It’s always a few hundred dollars,” he says. 

“The joys of homeownership, my friend.” Bucky pushes off from the wall and stands. He’s only about an inch shorter than Steve. 

“I guess so,” he replies. He moves to let Bucky pass, and takes another glance at his ass, hoping to catch a glimpse of the panties he saw. No dice. 

Bucky stops by the front door. “I’ll email you a quote for the installation. When you pick out the toilet, just call me and we’ll set up a day for the installation.” 

“Okay. Sounds good. Thanks for coming. I appreciate it.” Steve opens the door and Bucky brushes past him. 

“You’ve got my number,” Bucky says. Just before he walks down the stairs, he turns back to Steve and says, “Next time I’ll wear the blue ones,” winks, then jogs down the stairs to his truck leaving Steve standing there gaping like a fish.


	40. The Pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wears his new bathing suit to the pool.

Steve has no fucking idea what he’s doing. Well, he does, he’s just not sure why he’s doing it. It being attending his pool while wearing his best - and tightest - blue swim trunks that hug every bit of his butt and bulge on his small frame. The ones he only wears when he sunbathes on his patio and no one else is around. 

He takes a deep breath, pushes the club door open and it’s official. He’s at the pool. And he’s hating every second of it. He shouldn’t have worn these trunks. He does his best to not tug on them. He knows they won’t cover anything else. 

He spots a free lounge chair and makes a beeline for it. He lays his towel down and straddles the chair, giving his can of sunscreen a shake. He applies a healthy layer to his front - he’ll worry about his back when he flips over. 

He’s been seated for all of five minutes when Steve sees him. The man climbs the tallest diving board and Steve is hooked. There’s just something about him that Steve is drawn to. It could be the Speedo the man is wearing or his long dark hair that flows behind him. 

The man reaches the top of the diving board and elegantly walks to the edge of the platform. He turns around and hangs his heels off the edge. A moment to adjust his form and the man does a perfect backwards flip, landing feet first into the water with hardly a splash. Another few seconds and the man resurfaces at the edge and pulls himself up and out of the pool. 

And heads right for Steve. 

Steve manages not to stare outright at the dripping wet man in the Speedo with defined abs and thick veins down his arms. Mostly, anyway. 

“Hey,” the man says sitting on the lounge chair next to Steve. He towels off his chest and arms as Steve’s mouth waters. 

“Hi,” Steve replies. “Nice dive.” 

“Thanks. You dive?” He lays out his towel at the end of the lounge and scoots back to stretch out. Steve thinks his stare can be counted as friendly, not creepy. He hopes. 

“Nothing more than a cannonball.” 

The man laughs at that. “Nothing wrong with a good cannonball.” He holds out a hand to Steve. “I’m Bucky.”

“Steve.” 

They shake hands and Steve settles into his chair, thinking the conversation is over, congratulating himself for not making a complete and utter fool of himself in Bucky’s presence. Bucky apparently has other plans. 

“Hey, would you do me a favor and get my back?” 

Steve looks over and sees Bucky holding a bottle of lotion up. He swallows thickly. Okay. Sure. He can do that. Just a little friendly suntan lotion application between dudes. Nothing erotic about that. He feels his dick twitch and he silently curses it. 

“Yeah. Sure,” he says, going for casual. He may have succeeded. 

He takes the lotion from Bucky who turns around so his back is to Steve. Steve opens the bottle with a snick and pours a generous amount into his hands. He rubs them together to warm it up a little before touching Bucky’s back. 

He does his best not to let out a groan as he spreads his hands out along the other man. His hands run up and down and side to side across Bucky’s body, rubbing the lotion into his skin. 

“Don’t forget around the suit,” Bucky says helpfully. 

Steve slides his hands down closer to the waistband of Bucky’s suit. He thinks he hears a sharp intake of air on Bucky’s part, but he can’t be sure. At least he doesn’t do it himself. 

Bucky abruptly pulls away. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Steve rubs the extra lotion along his arms, massaging it into his skin. “Sure. No problem.” 

“I could do you,” Bucky says. 

And Steve knows Bucky is talking about putting sunscreen on his back, but his mind just can’t help but go to lewd and lascivious places. He’s also not entirely certain he can survive Bucky putting his hands on him, but then he remembers he’s got a spray can of lotion, so crisis averted. 

He passes Bucky the can and Bucky blanches. “Oh, that stuff hardly works at all. Here. You can use mine.” Bucky pours some of the lotion into his hands. “Turn around.” 

Steve takes a shaky breath, but turns anyway. He can do this. He can survive Bucky touching him. He thinks. 

Bucky doesn’t warm up the lotion first, just slathers it on Steve’s back, and he lets out a tiny yelp at the cold feeling. Bucky chuckles. “Sorry, babe,” he says. Did he just call Steve babe? Huh.   
As Bucky’s hands begin to roam over Steve’s body, Steve has to bite his lip to keep from groaning out loud. Christ, has it really been that long since he’s been touched by another man? Apparently it has. And Bucky looking the way he does doesn’t help matters. 

Steve feels Bucky’s hands going lower, towards his waistband, and then his fingers dip just under it. “Gotta make sure we don’t miss anything,” Bucky purrs into his ear. And just before Steve can take anymore, Bucky says, “There you go. All done.” Like it was no big deal. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, barely a whisper. He survived. Barely. 

“My pleasure.” Bucky winks at him and rubs the extra lotion on his legs, dragging his hands back up their length slowly. Steve is certain he’s making a show of it on purpose. “Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll get the backs of your legs, too.” 

“Sure. Thanks.” He tries to relax, but he’s not sure he can with Bucky right there. 

“So Steve,” Bucky starts. “You come here often?”

“I - what?” 

Bucky turns to face Steve. He drops his voice low. “Because, someone looking like you do in those trunks, I’m sure I would’ve noticed you before.” 

Steve can feel the blush creeping into his face and down his chest. Before he can even formulate even half a response, Bucky continues. 

“Bet they’d look even better offa you, sweetheart.” 

And Steve has no idea what to say to that. Yes? 

“You don’t have to say anything.” Bucky goes back to reclining on the lounge. “I’ll wait til you’re ready.” Bucky reaches under the lounge for his sunglasses. He slips them on as if nothing in the world is amiss. 

Steve has no idea what to do next.


	41. The Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wants a portrait. Bucky is not an artist.

It’s a Saturday afternoon, and Bucky is closing up his sister’s art studio, Becca having rushed home to a sick child. Bucky is washing some brushes, so he doesn’t hear the door open. 

“Hello?” The man’s voice is oddly familiar. 

“Hey!” he calls back. He turns off the spigot, shakes out the brushes, setting them next to the sink. He looks around for a cloth to dry his hands, but comes up empty. He shakes his hands at the floor, and wipes them on his jeans. When he turns to see who has entered the studio, he’s immediately dumbstruck, but before he can say anything else, the man just barrels right on through. 

“Oh, good,” he says. “I’d like to get my portrait done.”

“Okay, just let me get your contact info and -”

“I’d like to get it done now.” 

“Well, unfortunately -”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, but -”

“Then you know I don’t like to wait for anything.”

“I get that, but my sister -”

The man waltzes into the studio space, checking it out. “Nonsense. You’ve got time, yes?”

“I don’t think you want -”

“I’ll pay you a thousand dollars.” 

“What?”

“Two thousand dollars.” 

“It’s not the money -”

“Fine. Five thousand, but that’s my final offer.” 

“Okay.” Who is Bucky to turn down five grand for a portrait? The fact that he’s not an artist, notwithstanding, he’ll give it a whirl. “You want to have a seat and I’ll get set up?”

The man looks around the room. Apparently, nothing there is right for him. “Have you got some space in the back?” he asks. 

“I mean, there’s a sofa back there -”

“Perfect,” he says heading towards the back room. He begins to undo his tie. “If I’m gonna be naked - sorry, nude - I don’t want people staring at me as they pass by that window.” He gestures to the large picture window at the front of the store. 

Bucky can’t believe what he just heard. “I’m sorry. Did you say nude?”

“Of course!” The man’s smile is blinding. He tosses his tie on a chair and unbuttons his shirt. “If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right.” His dress shirt quickly follows the tie. 

“And nude is the right thing?” 

“Sure is!” The man’s pants drop to the floor and toes off his shoes as he steps out of them. He’s wearing a ridiculous pair of American flag boxers. Bucky supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, all things considered. Bucky knows the man’s birthday is the Fourth of July. 

Bucky sighs, resigned to his fate. “Let me get a canvas and some supplies.”

“Perfect!” The man drops his boxers and lounges on the sofa like Rose in Titanic, arm over his head, stretched out luxuriously, unconcerned about his nudity. 

Bucky takes a sideways glance at his cock, trying not to stare too much. As if Bucky didn’t already harbor a crush on him, now he’s got spank bank material. Score!

Once everything is set up, Bucky asks, “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” the man says, not a care in the world. 

And so Bucky starts by sketching a vague outline of the man in front of him. He thinks that’s what artists do. It’s probably fifteen minutes before he really has to tell this guy that he’s not an artist. Bucky looks at his artwork and grimaces. 

“It can’t be that bad,” the man says. He stands and saunters over to the easel. “I take that back. It can be that bad,” he says looking at the stick figure Bucky has drawn. 

“I tried to tell you,” Bucky pleads. “But you wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise!”

The man nods. “No, that’s fair. That’s one of those things my therapist tells me I need to work on.” 

“This is my sister’s studio. I was just closing up for her. If you really want a portrait done, she’s the one you need to talk to.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll just….I’ll put my pants back on now,” he says sheepishly. Bucky watches his ass as he crosses back to the sofa. It’s a thing of beauty. 

“And don’t worry, Mr. Rogers. Your secret is safe with me.” Bucky mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, pausing as he tugs his pants on. 

“At the office.” It’s obvious Mr. Rogers has no idea who Bucky is. “I, um….I work for your firm. I’m in marketing. You wouldn’t have any reason to know who I am, though.” 

“Oh, my god. Well, hell. You might as well call me Steve, seeing as you’ve seen my junk and all.” 

Bucky laughs nervously. “Yeah. That was a little awkward.” 

Steve buttons up his shirt. “Shit. I don’t even know your name.”

“Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

Steve holds out his hand to shake in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Bucky. Steve Rogers.”

“We established that.” 

“I guess we did.” He drapes the tie around his neck. “Tell you what. If you’re free, why don’t we go get something to eat and we can laugh about this whole misunderstanding.”

“I’d like that.” 

Steve leans into Bucky’s personal space and says, “And if you play your cards right, I’ll let you see my junk again.”

“I’d like that, too.”


	42. The Presentation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve rush through the office. They’re late for their own presentation in the conference room.

Bucky and Steve rush through the office. They’re late for their own presentation in the conference room. They don’t even have time to grab a cup of coffee from the break room. 

“I told you we were gonna be late,” Bucky says, trailing behind Steve. 

“I know. I heard you. Come on!” Steve pushes past one of their coworkers with a mumbled “Sorry” as he does so. 

“You’ve got the USB, right?” Bucky sounds panicked, when Steve knows he doesn’t need to be. He’s got it all under control. 

Steve pats his front pocket. “Right here. We’re fine.” 

“We’re not fine, Steve. We’re late.”

“If you say that one more time….” Steve trails off, leaving the thought unfinished. 

One more turn and they finally reach the conference room, which is filled with their peers and two bosses. Fuck. 

“So glad you could join us,” Fury says. He doesn’t sound angry, more amused than anything and Steve wonders what’s up with that. 

“I apologize,” Bucky starts. “We hit traffic at lunch and -”

“No need,” Fury says. “Catch your breath and get set up.” 

“Thank you, Sir,” Steve says. He’s always kind of liked Fury. 

Bucky makes his way to the back of the room where the projector and computer are. Steve tosses him the USB and Bucky sets up the presentation without too much trouble. He pulls up the PowerPoint and Steve begins his spiel.

It’s a good idea that will save the company several thousand dollars a year, and by the time he wraps it up, Steve is pretty sure Fury is on board. Maybe. The guy is hard to read sometimes. Okay, always. 

As the meeting adjourns and their coworkers file out, Fury asks them to stay a moment longer. “Gentlemen. A word.” He closes the door after everyone has left.

This can’t be good, Steve thinks. He looks over at Bucky, who is just as lost. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Fury starts. “It’s a good thing you just gave a damn good presentation because I’ve half a mind to call HR on you.” 

That gets both of their attention. “What do you mean?” Bucky asks. 

“Look.” Fury takes in a breath. “I don’t care what you do when you’re not at work, but for the love of all that is good and holy, if you’re going to spend your lunch hour making out in your car, make sure it’s not parked by my office.”

“Oh,” Steve manages to get out. 

Bucky ducks his head and apologizes, manhandling Steve to get out of the conference room. The door closes behind them and Bucky continues shoving Steve until they get to the men’s room, Steve not putting up much of a fight. 

“Buck? You okay?” Steve asks once safely inside. 

Bucky busts out laughing. It takes a moment, but Steve joins him. They laugh for a good long while, probably sounding half crazed to anyone walking by. 

“So much for being discrete,” Bucky says finally. 

Steve wipes away the happy tears. “Oh, my god. I love you.” 

“Do what?” Bucky is suddenly serious. “Did you just -”

Steve pauses a moment. It certainly wasn’t how he pictured saying it to Bucky, but he means it. “Yeah. I love you, Buck.” He pulls on Bucky’s tie, pulling him forward into his personal space. 

“I love you, too.”


	43. The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky loves his sister dearly, but right now, he kind of hates her. 
> 
> He’s standing outside her duplex, getting rained on, because she’s running late.

Bucky loves his sister dearly, but right now, he kind of hates her. 

He’s standing outside her duplex, getting rained on, because she’s running late. They were supposed to be having dinner together at her place, but she texted saying she needed to finish a project at work and would be about fifteen minutes late. Which, perfect. Now he’s standing on the stoop of her duplex getting rained on, and he’s soaked through. Oh, yeah. She’s gonna owe him. Big time. 

He turns his collar up for the third time in a futile attempt to block some of the rain from going down his back. He curses Becca’s name as he puts his hands back in his pockets, hunching over. 

Soon, a man comes splashing up the steps, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s dry under his umbrella. “Waiting for someone?” he asks Bucky. 

“My sister. She’s running late,” Bucky grumbles. 

“You’re Becca’s brother?” Bucky nods. “Come on into my place. We’ll see if we can get you dried off.” 

“Thank you,” Bucky says gratefully. “I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything.” 

The man barks out a laugh. “I should hope not. I’m Steve,” he says, opening up his half of the duplex. He closes his umbrella and lets Bucky into the dry entryway. 

“Bucky.” He shakes out his hands. He doesn’t want to shake too much as there’s already forming a puddle on Steve’s floor. 

“Let me get you a towel,” Steve says before dashing off down the hall. 

Bucky looks around the apartment. It’s the mirror image of Becca’s and it takes him a moment to orient himself. The walls are beige, where Becca’s are grey, and Steve gets more sun in the afternoon than Becca due to the window placement. It’s nice. 

“Here you go,” Steve says coming back down the hall. “Did she say how late she was going to be?” 

Bucky takes the towel, unfurls it, and wipes at his hair and face. “At least fifteen minutes,” he says. 

“Tell you what,” Steve says, leaning against the door jamb, “Why don’t we toss your wet clothes into the dryer and you’ll be good to go when she gets home.” 

Bucky thinks for a moment. “That’d be great, but I’m soaked through. And I don’t have anything to wear.” 

“Hold on,” Steve says dashing back down the hallway. He returns momentarily with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “You can wear these.” 

“You sure?” Buck would be ever so grateful if he could get dry. “You don’t mind me wearing your clothes?” 

“Nah. Go on. Get undressed and I’ll put your clothes in the dryer.” He holds out the dry garments to Bucky. 

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” 

Bucky quickly strips off his jacket and hands it to Steve. He toes off his shoes and takes off his belt, dropping it to the floor next to the shoes. He pulls his wallet, keys, and phone from his pants and places them on the small table in the entryway. He pulls his shirt off with some effort and hands it to Steve as well. He thinks he imagines the way Steve’s sucks in a breath. Finally, his pants come off, not quite as stuck to him as his shirt was, and he passes them to Steve, too. 

He stands there in his boxer briefs and socks, neither of which are too damp, thankfully. He towels off his torso and face and reaches out to Steve for the dry clothing, and okay, he’s not imagining Steve staring at him. “Steve?” 

Steve shakes his head as if clearing his thoughts. “Sorry. Here.” He hands Bucky the dry clothing and turns to the kitchen to put the clothes in the dryer. When he comes back, Bucky is dressed. “You want a beer?” 

“That would be great.” Bucky follows Steve to the kitchen this time. He places the damp towel on the washing machine. “Thanks again for taking pity on me.” 

“No problem,” Steve says, handing him a Stella. “My ma would kill me if I didn’t help someone who needed it.” 

“I’ll have to thank her, then.” As Bucky takes a pull off the beer, he hears his phone ring Becca’s ringtone. “That’s Becca,” he says. He grabs his phone off the entry table. “Hey, Becs….I’m at your neighbor’s….Yeah, I’ll be over in a little bit….my clothes are in the dryer….okay….see you soon.” He hangs up the phone. 

“She’s good people,” Steve says. “I like her.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why don’t you ask her out? You seem like a good guy.” 

“I’d rather go out with her brother,” Steve says, blushing. 

“You’d rather - oh. OH!” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it weird,” Steve says. “I don’t even know if you like guys.” 

“Oh, I like guys,” Bucky says. “And I’m not dating anyone right now.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Steve’s eyes light up with hope. Bucky nods and Steve says, “Would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow night?”

And now it’s Bucky’s turn for his breath to catch. “I’d like that.”


	44. Schoolhouse Rock

[ _ Got home from camping last spring _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkuuZEey_bs)

[ _ Saw people, places, and things _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkuuZEey_bs)

[ _ We barely had arrived _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkuuZEey_bs)

[ _ Friends asked us to describe  _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkuuZEey_bs)

[ _ The people, places, and every last thing _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkuuZEey_bs)

[ _ So we unpacked our adjectives _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkuuZEey_bs)

For some reason, the old  _ Schoolhouse Rock  _ song about adjectives is stuck in Steve’s head. He can’t figure out what triggered it, but he’s suddenly singing to himself a song he hasn’t thought about in probably twenty five years. 

And that’s when he notices it. The guy standing next to him at the MTA stop is listening to it on his phone - only his earbuds aren’t pushed into the device all the way, so he can hear the music playing. 

Steve chuckles and is about to say something when he takes note of the guy listening to  _ Schoolhouse Rock.  _ He’s hot. Dark hair, blue eyes, and a jawline that looks like chiseled marble. He clears his throat and quickly looks away before he’s caught staring. 

The subway cars roll up and they get on the train. It’s a bit more crowded then normal for this time of day, so they both end up standing, Steve following close behind because he wants to hear more of the music, and also maybe get a sense of whether or not he’s got a shot with Blue Steel. 

As the car rolls away from the stop, Steve can hear the music change from adjectives to pronouns and  [ _ Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koZFca8AkT0) _ ,  _ which Steve remembers, but the words fail him. Before he realizes it, he’s humming along with the tune. 

He must be humming too loudly because Blue Steel turns to him, brow furrowed. He pops out an ear bud. “Can you hear my music?”

“Sorry,” Steve says as he feels the heat creeping up his face. “Yeah. They’re not plugged in all the way. I’ve been listening since the platform.” 

“You like  _ Schoolhouse Rock _ ?” he asks. 

Steve shrugs, smiling. “It’s nostalgic, what can I say?”

Blue Steel offers Steve an earbud. “ [ _ I’m Just A Bill _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFroMQlKiag) __ is up next.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s nose wrinkles as he smiles. “You don’t mind?” 

“Nah. It’s fun. I’m Bucky.”

“Steve.” He pops in the earbud just as the next song starts. He starts to sing along, badly, as does Bucky. They bop their heads around, not caring what anyone else on the car thinks of them. 

By the end of the song, Steve’s stop is coming up, but he’s debating missing it, he’s having so much fun. He knows he shouldn’t, though, so he takes out the earbud. “My stop is next,” he says to Bucky. “Thanks for the listen.” 

“My pleasure.” They’re silent for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’d want to get coffee sometime, would you?” 

Steve smiles again. “Yes. I’d like that.” He reaches out, silently asking for Bucky’s phone to put his number into, but the train stops too quickly. “Shit. I gotta go.” His mind races for an answer. “Tomorrow, 3pm. Root Hill Cafe. Park Slope,” he says as he’s exiting the car. 

Bucky nods that he’s understood. “See you then!” 

The doors close and Steve holds up his hand, waving good-bye. Bucky does the same. As the cars pull out of the station, Steve really hopes his date doesn’t stand him up. 


	45. The Shelter Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That’s it. That’s the cat, Bucky thinks. She’s white with blue eyes and a fluffy tail and she snuggles up to him easily, purring loudly. She’s perfect. He already knows what he’s going to name her: Alpine.

That’s it. That’s the cat, Bucky thinks. She’s white with blue eyes and a fluffy tail and she snuggles up to him easily, purring loudly. She’s perfect. He already knows what he’s going to name her: Alpine. 

He closes the cage door she was in and is about to put her into the cat carrier he brought with him to the shelter, but she seems perfectly content to snuggle closer into his neck, so he leaves her there. He makes his way back to the counter to fill out the adoption papers for her. 

As he heads back to the shelter’s entrance, he notices a man approaching, and he can’t be sure, but it looks like he’s maybe not full-on crying, at least he wipes a tear away. Bucky awkwardly smiles at him as he approaches. They pass each other without saying anything. 

Once he’s at the counter and filling out the paperwork, Alpine uncurls from his chest and makes her way to Bucky’s shoulders. It doesn’t feel like she’s going to jump off, so he leaves her there. “I can’t believe no one else adopted her,” Bucky tells the woman behind the counter. 

“Marnie is a bit of a stickler,” the woman says. “She’s only tolerated one other person that I’ve seen.”

“Marnie?” Bucky asks. The woman points to Alpine. Of course. They name the cats, don’t they. He wonders why the other person didn’t take her home. He reaches up to scratch Alpine’s head and she bumps his hand before he even gets to her. 

Suddenly, Alpine jumps off Bucky’s shoulders. He turns around to chase her, but she’s landed in the arms of the guy who was crying. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve been coming to play with Marnie for a week now, and you’re taking her home. I just wanted to say good-bye.” 

“There’s plenty of other cats to play with, Steve,” the woman behind the counter says. 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “But Marnie is special, Mae. She likes me.”

Bucky looks at the man who’s holding his cat. Hair on the longish side, blue eyes, beard. He looks built under his clothes, too. Damn. 

“You’re all set,” the woman, Mae, says to Bucky. “Marnie is all yours.” Bucky thanks her and accepts his receipt which he quickly folds and puts in his back pocket. 

Bucky makes a hasty, and probably rash, decision. “Walk with me?” he asks Steve. He picks up the carrier and turns towards the door, letting Alpine stay with Steve. . 

Steve nods and follows close behind. Bucky holds the door open for them and they make their way to Bucky’s car. He smiles at Steve. “You gonna give me my cat?” he asks playfully. “Or do you want something in return?”

Steve furrows his brow at Bucky. He’s got Alpine cradled on her back, giving her a belly rub, and fuck if that doesn’t just look adorable. “What do you mean?” he asks, still looking at the cat. 

Well, that didn’t work, Bucky thinks. Maybe the direct approach is better. “You give me my cat and I’ll give you my number so you can come visit her?” 

Steve looks up at Bucky at that. “You what?” 

“You could come visit her? I’ll make dinner?” Jesus, when did flirting get so difficult? 

And at that, Steve does look up and smiles at Bucky this time. “Are you asking me out?”

“I’m trying,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes good naturedly. “You appear to be pretty enamored with her.” He reaches out and scratches under her chin. She purrs loudly. 

Steve hands Alpine back to Bucky and pulls out his phone. “I’d like that.”

Bucky gives Steve his number and name and feels his phone vibrate with a text message. “Got it,” he says, sticking out his hip to indicate where his phone is kept. 

“Good. I’d like to keep seeing her,” Steve says. “Her new owner seems nice.”


	46. Costco Shrimp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wanders the food aisles at the Costco, only half heartedly paying attention to where he’s going.

Steve wanders the food aisles at the Costco, only half heartedly paying attention to where he’s going. As he turns at the end of the aisle to look at the endcap, he accidentally bumps his cart into someone else’s. He’s got an apology half way out of his mouth when he stops mid-breath. The guy he bumped into is beautiful. He’s probably close to Steve’s height with dark hair tucked behind his ears, and the beefiest body Steve has seen in a while. It takes all his willpower not to outright drool. 

“Sorry,” the man says, a mea culpa on his face. “I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Neither was I,” Steve replies. He smiles, and the man smiles back. It’s nothing short of breathtaking. Steve can’t remember the last time he had such a visceral reaction to another person. They each give a closed-mouth smile followed by a little wave and head their own way, Steve wondering if he’ll bump into him again. 

He does. They both end up the next aisle over, heading in different directions. They stop in front of each other, Steve looking at the three-pack of ketchup, the other guy looking at the multi-pack of salad dressing. 

“You can never have too much ketchup,” the guy says. 

Steve looks up at the man. “Do what now?” He was lost in thought for a moment and missed what he said. 

“You can never have too much ketchup,” he repeats. 

“Right?” Steve smiles. “It’s the perfect condiment.” He looks down at the dressing in the guy’s hand. “That’s a good one. I got that last time.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” he says, nodding as he puts the pack in his cart. 

They go their own ways again, only to meet back at the next aisle, and the next, and the one after that. Steve stops at the end of the row to pick up a bag of dog food while he sees the guy pick up his own bag of cat food. They’re both animal people. That’s a good sign. 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” the guy says to him as he hefts the bag into his cart. 

“I have a feeling we’ll be at it again soon enough,” Steve says. This time he rakes his eyes down the guy’s form, hoping against hope that the guy could possibly be interested in him. 

“You’re probably right,” the man says, flicking his eyes down to Steve’s mouth. At least Steve thinks that’s what he did. He’s not totally certain. 

They go on their way again, managing to avoid each other in the large dairy and frozen sections, but meeting up again at the seafood cases. They each grab for a package of shrimp, their hands brushing together. Steve thinks he feels a connection, but he rationalizes that it’s probably just static electricity. 

“Okay, this is just getting out of hand,” the guy says. 

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles sheepishly. Guess the guy isn’t into him after all. Oh, well. 

“Do you - this is gonna sound crazy - do you want to get a coffee or a drink?” 

“I - oh.” Steve’s brain stops short for a moment while it tries to catch up with what was just asked of him. 

“If you don’t, that’s cool,” the man says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I just thought -”

“No! No, I’d like that.”

“How about three o’clock over at the Green Bean?” he asks looking at his watch. “I’m assuming that’ll give you enough time to get checked out and get everything unpacked at home.”

The Green Bean is definitely out of Steve’s way. It’s in a part of town he hardly ever has need to go to, but he doesn’t care. He’s going. If this good-looking guy wants to have coffee with him in the next town over, Steve’s going to be there. 

“Yeah. I can do that. Steve.” 

“Bucky.” Bucky reaches into the seafood case and pulls out the package of shrimp. “Here. You take this one.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking the package. “I’ll see you at three.” 

He puts the shrimp in his cart and turns to go. He only turns back twice to see if Bucky is still there. 

He is.


	47. Bucky's Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky really needs that nap.

Bucky sleeps on the sofa, his metal arm over his head, the other resting on Alpine who is curled up on his chest. 

It’s a sight that makes Steve’s chest swell. He never in a million years thought he’d get to have this. He’d spent five long years without Bucky after The Snap, and he was damned if he was ever going to be more than five feet away from him for the rest of their lives. 

Steve sets down the basket of laundry and pulls out his phone to get a quick snap of his sleeping husband. He forgets that he never turned off the camera’s shutter noise, and the sound makes Bucky stir. 

“What time is it?” he asks blearily. 

“Almost four.” 

Bucky starts to move, but stops as he realizes Alpine is still on his chest. “Why didn’t you wake me?” 

“You needed the rest.” Steve sits on the sofa by Bucky’s hips and scratches Alpine on the head. “Good kitty.” 

“Want me to start dinner?” Bucky’s metal arm comes around and he places his hand on Steve’s thigh. 

Steve picks up the hand and plants a kiss on the palm. “Meat’s marinating and will be ready for the grill by five.” 

“You’re gonna spoil me, Rogers.” 

“That’s the plan, Buck. I’ve lost you too many times to take you for granted.”

Bucky shifts a little and Alpine takes her cue and hops off his chest. “Bye, kitty,” he says. He’s about to get up, but Steve is suddenly on him, smothering Bucky’s body with his own. Bucky lets out an oof but smiles and wraps his arms around his husband. 

Steve brushes some of Bucky’s long locks off his forehead and leans in for a chaste kiss. “How hungry are you?” Steve asks when he pulls back. 

“I mean, I could eat,” Bucky replies as he cocks an eyebrow. “Got something else in mind besides dinner?” 

“Wanna fool around and order in?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes good naturedly, and his hips up for good measure causing Steve to groan. “I could be persuaded.” 

Steve kisses him again and rolls off the sofa and starts for the kitchen. “I’ll put the steak back in the fridge and meet you upstairs.”

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


	48. A Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight’s the night. This is the night that Bucky is going to tell Steve that he likes him. Like, likes him, likes him.

Tonight’s the night. This is the night that Bucky is going to tell Steve that he likes him. Like, likes him, likes him. They’ve been friends forever, but lately, Bucky has been feeling like more than friends, and he thinks that Steve may feel the same way, but he’s not entirely sure, so he’s going to shoot his shot and just tell Steve, consequences be damned. 

Well, not really. Bucky would be devastated if Steve doesn’t like him back, so he’s really taking a chance here, but he thinks he’s reading all the signs correctly. There have been little touches on Steve’s part; a brush of a hand here, a touch of a thigh there. It’s made for a couple of awkward nights already, and well, what’s one more? 

His plans are derailed, however, when Steve gets back to their shared apartment and he’s in a mood. He slams the door shut and practically throws his backpack to the ground. He stomps over to the fridge and grabs a beer, twisting the cap off. He takes a long pull from the bottle. 

“Bad day?” Bucky asks. Tonight might not be the night after all. 

“It wasn’t great,” Steve says. 

“Want to get Chinese?” Bucky asks. It’s his go-to comfort food. 

“Sounds good. Is there a game on tonight?” Steve flops down on the sofa, picks up the remote and begins flipping through channels. 

“ESPN. 7pm. Beef and Broccoli combo?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Bucky pulls out his phone and quickly places their order. “You wanna talk about it?” Bucky sits on the other end of the small couch. There’s enough room for one other person between them, if that person doesn’t mind getting squished between the two large men. 

Steve stares at the TV as he selects the channel. He sighs. “It’s just...sometimes I wonder what I’m doing, you know?”

Bucky pats Steve’s leg. “All the time, man.” 

What he’s not expecting is for Steve to cover his hand with his own. Bucky stops breathing for a moment. Does he do it? Does he say something?

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve looks to him with the softest eyes Bucky has ever seen. 

“For what?”

“Just for being here.” Steve lets go of Bucky’s hand and then scoots over and places his head on Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky isn’t sure what to do next, so he just leans his head down so that his head is resting on Steve’s. Steve places his hand on Bucky’s thigh again, and this time Bucky covers it with his own. Steve flips his hand and threads his fingers through Bucky’s. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“Relaxing.”

“That’s it?”

There’s a pause before Steve answers. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Bucky takes a deep breath before saying, “I like you.” 

“Yeah?” There’s a little bit of a laugh in Steve’s voice. “I like you, too.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”


	49. Spaghetti-O's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Bucky is having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. 

It started when he woke up late, the hot water in his apartment was out, so he ended up with a cold shower, he stubbed his toe on the bed frame, dropped a blot of cheese on his shirt from his Hot Pocket on the way out the door, missed the subway which made him late for work, skipped lunch to work on the largest loan package he’d ever been part of, missed the cake brought in to celebrate the month’s birthdays, and now he’s walking out of the office an hour later than he usually does. 

He just wants this day to be over, to go home and have the biggest glass of wine he can handle, but he’s gotta eat something too, and he suddenly knows just the thing: SpaghettiOs with Sliced Franks. His most favorite comfort food in the world that his mom used to make for him when he was sick. He thinks back to his meager pantry and while he knows there’s wine, he is about 98% that he doesn’t have any SpaghettiOs at home. He’ll have to stop at the corner store on his way. 

He hops off the subway and heads for the corner store a block from his apartment. HIs mood is already lighter at the thought of his favorite comfort food. He smiles as he enters the store and nods at the clerk manning the register. He turns the corner of the aisle he wants and stops short, letting out a “Noooooo!” without even meaning to. 

The man in the aisle turns to him. He’s got the last can of SpaghettiOs in his hand and a look of abject horror on his face. He’s also fucking gorgeous, Bucky notices. “You okay?” the guy asks, putting the can in his basket. 

“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to give me one of those cans?” Bucky says. He hopes he doesn’t sound as pathetic as he thinks he does. If he needs to, he’ll spin a tale of an imaginary child who’s sick and they’re her favorite thing ever, and no he won’t either. He’s not inviting that kind of karma. 

The guy smiles at him. “Got a kid who needs them?” 

Dammit. “No,” Bucky says sheepishly. “They’re for me.”

The guy laughs at that. “For you? Really?”

“I’ve had a really shitty day and they’re my favorite comfort food,” Bucky says, his hand going to the back of his neck. He's too embarrassed to look the guy in the eye. “Please?” he adds. 

“Tell you what,” the guy says. “One can for your phone number.” 

Bucky looks up at him. “Do what?” 

The guy smiles at him. “One can for your phone number,” he repeats. “If you don’t want to go out with me, I’ve got a sister -” 

“Oh, no! I’d - I’d like that.” 

“Or, you could come back to mine, and we can have dinner now.” He holds up one of the cans giving it a little shake. “I’ll even cook for you.” 

Bucky laughs at that. “How do you know I’m not some crazed serial killer?”

“Everyone knows serial killers don’t eat SpaghettiOs. It’s just a fact.” The guy’s smile is so genuine, that Bucky feels himself caving. 

“Okay. But let me get the wine. I think a nice Pino Noir pairs well with pasta.” 

“Deal.” The guy puts the can in his basket and extends his hand. “Steve.”

“Bucky.” 

“Well, Bucky, let’s see if we can turn your shitty day around.”


	50. Mirror, Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve stands at the coffee island adding creamer to his cup when he sees him. He knew that the trade show wasn’t the only event at the hotel this weekend, but he never would have guessed that the other event was a sci-fi convention.

Steve stands at the coffee island adding creamer to his cup when he sees him. He knew that the trade show wasn’t the only event at the hotel this weekend, but he never would have guessed that the other event was a sci-fi convention. 

The man who catches his eye is dressed in Captain Kirk’s uniform from the Mirror, Mirror episode of Star Trek: The Original Series. It looks screen accurate from this distance. He can see the pins on the man’s vest from his vantage point. 

But what really catches his eye is the man himself. The vest fits him snugly, and his well-defined arms put anything William Shatner had to shame. The pants fit the man’s thighs beautifully. His hair is gelled to look similar to Kirk’s. 

The man makes his way to the coffee bar and orders a large black coffee, room for cream. It takes the barista only a moment to secure his order, and the man heads to the island and the creamer container. 

“Hey,” Steve says. Up close the man’s eyes are bluer than any Steve has seen in quite some time. 

“Hi,” he says back. The man reaches for the creamer. 

“Mirror, Mirror, huh?” Smooth, Steve. Real smooth. 

The man smiles at him. “You going to the convention?” He adds three Splendas to his coffee.

“Nah. I’m here for the trade show. Looks like fun, though.” 

“I’m hoping to win the costume contest,” the man says. He takes a sip of his coffee. Deciding it’s good enough, he puts the lid on the cup.

“Be a shame if you didn’t,” Steve says, looking into his own cup. “Your uniform looks amazing.” He looks up through his lashes in what he hopes is a come hither look. 

“Thanks,” he says. He gestures to himself. “Bucky.”

“Steve.” 

“Don’t suppose you want to get dinner tonight?” 

Oh, thank god he asked. Steve wasn’t sure he’d be able to get the words out. “I think I have to have dinner with one of my vendors tonight,” Steve says. “But I’m not opposed to a night cap.” 

Bucky smirks. “A night cap. How quaint. A night cap it is. 8pm in the hotel bar?”

“Done.” Steve pauses before adding a little lower, “You’re keeping the uniform, right?” 

Bucky winks at him as he turns and walks away, Steve following the sway of his ass until he’s gone. This day will not end soon enough.


	51. Anesthesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a little outpatient surgery. Steve agrees to pick him up.

Steve heads back to his truck to bring it around to the pickup spot. Bucky has just completed an outpatient surgery on his hand, and Steve is his ride home. Bucky looked a little loopy when they wheeled him out. 

Steve pulls around to the carport and meets the nurse with Bucky’s wheelchair. He puts it in park and jogs around to the other side of the truck to help. “Okay, Mr. Barnes,” she says. “Time to get you in the car.” 

Bucky looks up at her. “Time to go?”

“Time to go,” she confirms. 

Bucky looks around. “Stevie?”

Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Right here, buddy.”

Bucky smiles widely. “Stevie. You came for me.” His head lolls to the side. 

“The meds should wear off shortly,” the nurse says. “Just put him to bed for a few hours and he’ll be right as rain.” 

Steve thanks the nurse and helps get Bucky into the truck. “Watch your hand,” he says as he leans over Bucky to get him buckled in. He smiles when Bucky leans down to kiss his head.

He makes his way to the driver’s side and hops in. “How you feeling?” he asks. 

“‘M Good,” Bucky says dreamily. “I ever tell you about Stevie?”

Steve wonders what in the world Bucky will say, so he indulges him. “No, Buck. I can’t say you have. What about Stevie?” He heads out of the parking lot. 

Bucky closes his eyes and smiles. “He’s the best, Stevie. M’best friend. Known him for years.” He looks out the window, tracing his finger on the glass. He makes a heart and blows on it to make it appear. “I love him.” 

Steve chuckles. “I’m sure he loves you, too.” 

“No. I love him. He doesn’t know. Don’t tell him, okay?”

“Sure, thing,” Steve says automatically before the words register. 

When they finally do, Steve almost swerves into oncoming traffic. What the shit? he thinks. His mind races. Bucky loves him? How can that be? No, he’s just high on the meds, Steve decides. Still, the words eat at him all the way back to Bucky’s house. 

Steve parks the truck and gets out to help Bucky out. He opens the door to unbuckle him and Bucky says, “Stevie! When did you get here?”

“Been here the whole time, Buck.” He unbuckles Bucky and helps him out of the cab. “Can you make it up the steps or do you want help?”

“Help, please.” Bucky furrows his brow as he allows himself to be led up the porch steps. “You’ve been here the whole time? Uh-oh.” He puts his good hand around Steve’s waist. “Did I say something I shouldn’t’ve?” he asks in a sing-song voice. 

Steve takes out his keys with Bucky’s spare and opens the door. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed. Take off your shoes.”

Bucky tries to toe out of his sneakers, but he’s having trouble with the coordination and nearly falls over. “Li’le help?” he asks. 

Steve bends down to help, and Bucky steadies himself on Steve’s back. “So firm,” he says dreamily. “Bet you’re firm all over.” Steve ignores that.

Once his shoes are off, Steve stands and guides Bucky to the bedroom. “Beeeeed,” Bucky says, flopping down on it, holding his stitched up hand over his head so he doesn’t injure it further. He finds a comfortable position on his belly, face smushed into the mattress. “Stay with me?”

“I’ll be in the living room,” Steve says. “I’ll be here until you wake up.”

“Oh-kay,” Bucky says. “Love you.” 

“Sweet dreams,” Steve says, exiting the room and closing the door.

Back in the living room, he sits on the sofa and turns on the TV, doing his best to ignore the warm fuzzy feeling deep in his gut, knowing that Bucky will take back the words he said when he’s out of his med haze, and it makes him feel miserable.


	52. Type 1 Diabetes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is diagnosed with T1D. He has a crazy idea.

Steve sighs heavily. He has no idea what he’s going to do next. He’s on the C, having just left his doctor’s office. The testing had come back positive. On top of all of Steve’s other annoying ailments, he’s just been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. Up until now, all his medicines have been generic or else he’s been able to use GoodRX to get them since his job doesn’t have a great insurance plan. Insulin, however, is another story all together. 

Insulin, even generics (he researched when his doc told him she wanted to test him), cost several hundred dollars. Brand names can run fourteen hundred dollars a month. He’s screwed. So screwed. 

He’s on the verge of tears, but manages to hold it together until he gets to his shared apartment. He doesn’t want Bucky to see him this way. Not that Bucky would judge him, but he’s still embarrassed. 

It’s when he enters the apartment and sees Bucky in the little kitchenette cooking them dinner that he gets an idea. It’s insane, but he’s got nothing to lose at this point. 

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky says. He’s stirring a pot of what Steve thinks is stew judging from the aroma wafting through the air. “How’d it go?”

Steve takes a breath. He can do this. “We need to get married. Now. This weekend.”

Bucky chuckles. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he says, obviously not meaning it. 

Steve takes a step towards Bucky. “Buck, I’m not kidding,” he says somberly. “Will you marry me?” 

Bucky puts the spoon down and turns to him, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms. He furrows his brow in concern for his friend. “What’s going on?”

Steve sighs. “I’ve got it. I’ve got Type 1 Diabetes. The doctor talked about getting me a pump to regulate my insulin levels.” 

“Oh, kid -” 

“Don’t call me kid. You’re only a few months older than me.” 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Bucky reaches out and soothes Steve’s arm. “But why do you want to get married?” Steve is silent. “Steve?”

“You...you have better insurance than I do.” 

Bucky barks out a laugh. “You want to marry me for my insurance? I’m crushed! I thought you liked me more than that.” 

“You’re my best friend, Buck. Of course I like you more than that. But I need insurance, and it’s not like I’m dating anyone.” Steve shrugs. “You were my first choice.”

“Sounds like I’m your only choice.” 

“That, too,” Steve says sheepishly. 

“Oh, Stevie.” Bucky pushes off the counter and envelopes him in a hug. He even kisses the top of Steve’s head, and that’s...new. 

After a moment, Bucky lets go. He takes Steve by the biceps and looks at him. Steve looks away. “Hey, look at me.” Steve does. “Now. If we’re doing this - “

“You don’t have to. It was a stupid idea.”

“IF we’re doing this,” Bucky repeats. “I’ve got a request, first.” 

“What’s that?”

“Go out with me. On a date. Not just buddies hanging out at the bar. A real date.”

And Steve’s not sure what he just heard. A date? With Bucky? That’s just crazy. Well, not so crazy. Steve does sort of have this unrequited crush on Bucky. But maybe it’s not so unrequited after all. 

“What?” It’s all Steve can manage. 

“Steve Rogers, will you go out with me?”

“You want to take me on a date.”

“Yes.”

“Like a real date.”

“Yes.”

“A date date.”

“One date. Then we can get married. I need to know what I’m getting into,” Bucky laughs. 

Steve surges forward, grabs Bucky’s face, and kisses him. As soon as he realizes what he’s doing, he tries to pull away, but Bucky stops him, pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. He opens his mouth and slips his tongue out to lick at Steve’s lips. Steve opens up to him just as his brain finally gets back on track because he’s kissing Bucky. 

His best friend. 

He pulls away a little and rests his forehead on Bucky’s. “What was that?” he asks. 

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” Bucky replies. 

“Me, too.” 

Bucky lets go of Steve and turns back to the stove and his cooking. “Now. Should we go ring shopping on our first date, or our second?”


	53. Tall Black American

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets the Starbucks order wrong.

Look. Steve’s not a coffee guy. He’s just not. He’s never acquired a taste for it, no matter how he’s tried it, and he’s tried them all. He’s just not going to ever drink the stuff. And yet…

He’s on line at the Starbucks drive through with an order for Natasha, in her big-ass truck, even. Why he agreed to take it, he’s still wondering considering how high up the cab is. He’s going to have to practically lean outside the window to place his order. Maybe he should just go inside. 

Fuck it. He’s already here. Might as well see it through. The line inches forward and he’s at the ordering kiosk. He’s right. He does have to lean out of the window to place the order. He sighs and checks his phone as he waits for the barista. 

“It’s a great day at Starbucks, this is Bucky, what can I get started for you?” 

“Can I get a tall black American?” 

There’s silence on the other end. Steve’s not sure he was heard, so he repeats the order. 

“Do you mean an Americano?” Bucky’s voice comes back. 

“A tall black American,” Steve repeats. 

“I’m pretty sure you mean an Americano. Otherwise, you’re on the wrong line, man.” 

Steve looks at the text from Natasha. It clearly says tall black American. It must be an autocorrect. 

“Yeah. An Americano,” Steve says. He hears the guy in the car behind him laughing his ass off. He blushes furiously as he sits back in the truck and pulls around the corner of the drive through. 

As he gets up to the window, the barista, Bucky, laughs at him. “You wanted the tall black American?”

“Yeah, I’d be grateful if you’d forget I ever said that,” Steve says. 

Bucky hands him the coffee as Steve presents his card for payment. “Not a chance.” He pauses before adding, “Would you like a receipt?” 

“Sure. We’ll call it a work expense.”

“Gotcha,” Bucky says. He rips the receipt off the register, but doesn’t hand it to Steve right away. “Tell you what,” he says, clicking a pen open. “If you’d consider a moderately tall white barista, here’s my number.” He hands Steve the receipt and winks. “Seriously, that was the best laugh I’ve had in awhile.” 

Steve takes the receipt and blushes. “I’ll do that,” he says as the guy in the car behind him shouts a “Woo hoo! Get it!” 

Steve ducks his head, puts the receipt on the seat next to him and pulls away. Maybe he won’t kill Natasha after all.


	54. The Rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is the stage manger. Steve is the diva.

Bucky sits in the audience, taking notes on the rehearsal in front of him. He writes down page numbers and lines missed for the actor’s notes at the end of the night. The blocking has been mostly spot on with just a hiccup here and there. It’s a pretty good rehearsal, all things considered. 

But then there’s Steve Rogers, the diva of the show. He’s stopped rehearsal twice already because of some perceived slight by another actor, and Bucky is ready to smack him upside the head. He won’t, of course, but it’s sure tempting. Maybe he’ll throw his notebook at him instead. 

No. He can’t do that. Steve is the director’s darling. The first person cast for the play, Steve’s reputation had preceded him. 

“Is that light in the correct spot?” Steve asks suddenly, stopping all the action on stage.

“That light is exactly where it’s supposed to be,” Bucky says testily. “Find the light yourself.”

“It just doesn’t seem right,” Steve says. He shields his eyes with one hand, the other on his hip. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, but I -”

“The light is fine, Steve,” Bucky says. And the rehearsal continues. 

When rehearsal is over and notes have been given, the actors and crew begin to file out of the theatre. 

“Barnes!” Steve’s voice stops Bucky short as he’s locking up for the night. 

“What’s up, Steve?” Bucky tries not to let the disdain for the man seep into his voice, but he’s not sure he succeeds. 

“What’s your problem?” Steve asks. “You obviously don’t like me, but don’t let it show in a rehearsal.” 

And that’s like a punch to the gut. That Steve is actually lecturing him on any kind of etiquette is a fucking joke. He drops his voice as he puts the theatre keys in his backpack. “Maybe if you’d stop stopping rehearsal for every tiny little thing and just do your fucking job -”

“Do my fucking job? Really? That’s rich coming from you.”

Bucky isn’t going to let himself get pulled into this argument. He sighs heavily. “What do you want from me, Steve? An apology? Fine. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” 

“That’s not -”

“Then what? What more could you possibly want from me?”

And before Bucky can even register what’s happening, Steve suddenly lunges forward and kisses him. Bucky doesn’t pull away, but instead opens up to Steve’s mouth, and then they’re full-on making out in the parking lot. 

Bucky comes to his senses and pulls away. “I hate you,” he says. 

“I hate you more. Your place or mine?”

“Yours. I want to escape as soon as we’re done.”

“Whatever, Barnes.”


	55. The Vending Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve needs a snack before his next conference call. It doesn't go well.

Steve only has about fifteen minutes until the next call. His day has been nothing but conference calls, and he hasn’t even had enough time to run out for a sandwich for lunch. Which is why he’s staring at the vending machine in the break room. He’s trying to decide between a Honey Bun and the Pop-Tarts, but he knows he should really stick to the granola bar or the trail mix. They’ll last longer into the afternoon than just a quick carb snack. 

Trail mix it is. 

He inserts his dollar and makes his selection, G4. As the spring spins to release his bounty, his phone buzzes with yet another meeting request. He’ll be glad when this day is over. He puts his phone back in his pocket and looks to the machine. The trail mix is stuck. The spring didn’t fully rotate and the snack dangles off the edge. 

“Fuck.”

He gives the machine a shove, hoping to dislodge his lunch. No such luck. It wobbles, but doesn’t fall. He sizes up the situation, deciding that since the trail mix is on the bottom row, he thinks that he may be able to sneak his hand up into the machine and snag the snack, so he squats in front of the machine. 

He rolls up his sleeve and shakes out his hand like he’s getting ready to pitch a baseball. He shakes his head at himself and slips his hand inside the slot. He maneuvers his arm to tuck into the bottom of the machine, lets the flap fall down and attempts to raise his hand enough to reach the trail mix. 

“Almost….got….it….” His fingers stop about an inch away from the packet. “Dammit.” Fine. He’ll just put in another dollar and maybe he’ll actually end up with two snacks. He goes to stand up and….

He’s stuck. He tugs at his arm, but it doesn’t move. Okay. This is fine. He lets his knees hit the floor so he’s not wobbling on the balls of his feet and tries again. Nope. No dice. 

“Hey, Steve.” 

Oh, no. Not now. Not his office crush. 

Bucky Barnes stands behind him, dollar bill in hand, obviously looking to get something out of the machine. “You okay, there?” he asks.

And how embarrassing is this? “Uh...I’m stuck.” 

“What?” The mirth is evident in his voice. 

“Shut up. I’m stuck.”

“Let me see.” Bucky crouches down to survey the situation. “Huh. Yeah, ya are,” he says, laughing at the end. 

Steve sighs in frustration. “Could you….not do that and help me?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky says. He gives Steve’s arm an experimental tug. “I suppose you tried that?” 

“Once or twice, yeah.” 

“You really wanted those nuts, huh?” 

Steve ducks his head as he feels his cheeks heat. “Shut up,” he mumbles. 

Bucky sticks his hand into the slot and pushes up on the flap. Steve is able to remove his arm easily. “If you hadn’t panicked - “

“It was like a Chinese finger trap! Every time I pulled, it got tighter!” He rubs at his arm absently.

“Okay, Steve.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

They stand and Steve is about to put his dollar in the machine when Bucky puts his hand on his arm. “Watch and learn,” he says. Bucky thumps on the side of the machine twice, then kicks the front of it with the side of his foot. The trail mix falls into the reservoir. He bends down to retrieve the snack and holds it out to Steve. “You just gotta know how to play it,” he says. 

“I’ll show you how to play it,” Steve says by way of a comeback. It’s stupid and lame and he regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth. 

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky’s voice drops lower. “I think I’d like that.” 

“I didn’t -”

“Friday. After work. The Wilky.” Bucky turns and walks out of the break room. 

“Don’t you want your snack?” Steve calls after him.

Bucky leans in the door frame. “Oh, I can wait for it.” He winks at Steve and slips away again. 

“Fuck.”


	56. Caught in the Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes home early. Bucky is...engaged.

Steve is ready to just be at home and do nothing for the next 36 hours. Work wasn’t stressful, but it was busy, and his brain is shorting out. He’s lucky he can remember where he lives at this point. Thank god he’s got tomorrow off. He can just relax, catch up on some Netflix, and do nothing all day. 

He trudges up to his shared apartment door, trying it to see if Bucky is home before inserting his key in the lock. It opens for him. He doesn’t shout out to Bucky that he’s home. They’re not freaking Ozzie and Harriet for crying out loud. He chastises himself for comparing themselves to a 1950’s sitcom couple. 

He sets his messenger bag down on one of the bar stools and grabs a beer out of the fridge. There’s no sign of Bucky. He must be in his room. They’d casually talked about going out tonight, but Steve just doesn’t feel up to it. Maybe he can convince Bucky that pizza and a ballgame is a good idea instead.

Steve takes a peek down the hallway and sees Bucky’s door is open, so he makes his way down the hall to present his alternate plan. He’s about to say Bucky’s name, but as he gets to the doorway, Steve stops cold. 

Bucky is laying on the bed, jacking himself off. 

His shirt is rucked up to his armpits, and he’s pinching a nipple with his free hand. His eyes are closed and his breathing is labored. His chest is flushed. Steve can’t take his eyes off of him. 

The thing about Steve Rogers is that he’s had a crush on his roommate since the day Bucky moved in six months ago on a recommendation from their mutual friend, Sam. Steve hasn’t told anyone about his little infatuation, and he’s not about to start, but he knows that watching Bucky jerk himself off is all kinds of fucked up. 

But he just can’t stop staring. 

Bucky’s breathing picks up and his hand flies over his cock, and Steve senses he’s getting close to the edge, but rather than back away quietly, like a creeper, Steve just stands there. Bucky is beautiful like this. It’s wrong, and he knows it’s wrong, but Steve can’t find it in himself to back away. 

But then….

“Steve!” 

It’s a small gasp that Bucky lets out as he comes over his fist and belly. Steve sucks in a breath and this time he does quietly back away before Bucky opens his eyes. His pulse is racing and he needs Bucky to never know he is home yet, so he slinks back to the front door, opens it, and closes it loudly. “Hey, Buck!” he calls out. He picks up his messenger back and drops it loudly back on the barstool. He goes through the motions of opening the fridge to get a beer again, pretending to open it. He’s taking a long sip off the bottle when Bucky comes out of his room. 

“Hey,” he says as casually as possible. “‘Sup?”

“Nothing.” He runs his hands through his hair and Steve tries not to imagine himself pulling it. “We going out tonight?”

“I was kind of hoping for pizza and a ballgame. If you don’t mind.” 

“Nah. I’m kind of tired anyway.” Bucky stretches and his shirt hikes up exposing a sliver of belly that Steve tries not to stare at. Bucky pulls his phone out of his pocket to pull up the pizza place’s app. “Sausage and peppers?” 

Steve makes a face. “Half peppers.” 

“Heathen.” 

Steve laughs, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. How is he going to deal with the knowledge that Bucky jerked off to him? How is he going to sit two feet away from him all night knowing what he knows? 

Fuck.


	57. The Zoom Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has had a crush on Steve Rogers since the day he walked into the lecture hall like he owned the place.

Bucky has had a crush on Steve Rogers since the day he walked into the lecture hall like he owned the place. He did his best not to stare, but how could he not? Steve is gorgeous. And he’s the starting quarterback for the college football team. Which means he’s more than likely straight, much to Bucky’s chagrin. 

But then COVID hit and the campus went into quarantine. Classes were either cancelled outright or moved to strictly online. Bucky hates it. All he gets to see of his crush is a tiny box tucked among all the other students in the class. That is until one day the professor assigns everyone a project and a partner. Bucky gets Steve.

They obviously can’t meet at the library or coffee shop like they normally would, so they have to meet over Zoom like the rest of the world. In preparation for the call, Bucky spends almost as much time finding the perfect spot in his apartment as he does on the research for the project. He wants to impress Steve, not that Steve would be impressed. Bucky still wants to make sure everything is perfect. 

When the call comes, Bucky nearly jumps out of his seat even though he’d been expecting it. He runs his hands through his hair one more time and accepts the call. “Hey, Steve.” 

“Hey, Bucky. Ready to do this?”

“I think so. Do you want - is that a bong?” Clearly it is. Bucky takes a moment to actually take in the surroundings in Steve’s room. In addition to the bong, there is a Led Zeppelin poster on the wall and a pennant for some team he can’t quite read. Steve is sitting on the bed, which, when he sits up to move the bong, he jostles the computer which shows the bed is unmade. 

“Yeah, sorry. I forgot to put it up earlier.” 

“No, it’s okay.” 

And that’s when Steve moves to sit up straighter on the bed. That’s the moment Bucky’s world comes crashing down. In the movement of the computer this time, Bucky spots a dildo on the comforter. He squints. Is that a packet of lube, too? 

Bucky’s heart rate picks up, but he says nothing. How the fuck is he supposed to just ignore that? 

“You smoke?” Steve asks. 

“Yeah, occasionally.” 

“When this is all over, you should come over sometime. We can totally get high together.” 

Do what now? Did Steve just ask him to come over? Nah. He’s just being friendly. “Sure,” Bucky says. “That’d be good.” 

They get down to business then, discussing the project on Hades and how they can fit their two pieces of research together. “It’d be easier if we could just use Disney’s Hercules,” Steve says. “I know that movie backwards and forward.” 

That bit of information makes Bucky perk up. “Yeah? I love that movie!”

“We should watch it for the project,” Steve says. “You want to come over?” 

Bucky blinks. “You want me to come over to watch a movie?”

“Sure!”

“Right now? What about the pandemic?” 

“I’ve been quarantined for a week, you probably have, too. I’m assuming you’re doing online grocery shopping?”

“Isn’t everyone?” 

“So yeah. Come on over. We can order a contact free pizza and watch a movie. Maybe smoke a little.” 

And that sounds like music to Bucky’s ears. He can’t believe this is happening. “Um. Okay. Sure. Yeah. Where do you live?” 

When Steve tells him, his eyebrows shoot up. “That’s just one block over. I can be there in like five minutes. I’ll bring my research.”

Steve tosses the computer on the bed to get up and Bucky can see part of the dildo, there’s absolutely no mistaking what it is. “Can you make it like 20? I should probably straighten up a little bit,” he laughs. 

“I’ll give you 30.” 

They hang up and Bucky immediately panics. He pops a Klonopin to keep his anxiety in check. He doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Steve. 

Bucky puts on his skinniest jeans and a henley that shows off his arms, brushes his teeth, and sits at the table, biding his time to go, bouncing his leg for all it’s worth. He thinks of Steve’s room. Of Steve. With a dildo and lube on his bed. Maybe, just maybe, Steve isn’t so straight after all.


	58. Throckmorton Sign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been kind of a slow day in the radiology department and Bucky is bored. He’s managed to catch up on all the x-rays sent to him for diagnostics, he’s straightened his desk, and even wiped down the break room. He hasn’t had this little to do since he can’t remember when.

It’s been kind of a slow day in the radiology department and Bucky is bored. He’s managed to catch up on all the x-rays sent to him for diagnostics, he’s straightened his desk, and even wiped down the break room. He hasn’t had this little to do since he can’t remember when. 

He’s about to open his phone when one of the ER nurses, Sam, comes in with a handful of files. “ER just got busy,” he says.

“Oh, thank god,” Bucky says, taking the folders from Sam. He sets them down by the light box and pulls the first patient. He sticks the x-ray in the box and looks it over. 

“Bennett, Josie. Ten years old. Fell off her skateboard onto her wrist,” Sam supplies. 

Bucky’s fingers dance over the film. “She’s got a hairline fracture right here,” he says pointing to the head of her ulna. He pulls the x-ray from the box and hands it to Sam who places it back in the folder. Bucky quickly enters his notes into the computer by the light box as Sam pulls out another piece of film. 

“Tyler, Marcus. Sixty-five years old. Took a fall in the bathroom. Said his ankle just gave out on him.” 

Bucky places the film on the box and studies it. “I don’t see anything wrong here. He looks good.” Once again, he hands Sam the film and types his notes into the computer. 

“Whoa!” Sam says. “You’re gonna want to actually see this patient,” he says, smirking. 

“I don’t DO patients,” Bucky says, grumpiness seeping through. “You know that.”

“Oh, you’re gonna wanna do this one. Got an excellent Throckmorton’s Sign on it.” 

“What are you? Twelve?” Bucky asks, holding out his hand for the film. As soon as he puts it in the light box, he knows Sam is right. Holy shit. That’s a hell of a Throckmorton. It’s been a long time since he’s seen a dick that big flaccid. Bucky whistles in appreciation. 

“I told you,” Sam says. “Rogers, Steve. Thirty-one. Fell off a ladder onto his left hip.” 

“He’s lucky,” Bucky says. “I don’t see anything.” 

“Other than that huge dick of his?” Sam says. 

“Shut up, Wilson.” 

“You want to tell him he’s good?” Sam teases.

Bucky pauses and thinks for a moment. “Is he cute?”

Sam nods. “I’m thinking about asking him out.” 

“You’re straight.”

“My point.” 

“All right, let’s go,” Bucky says. He quickly grabs a Post-It and writes “Back in Ten” on it, slapping it on the door on the way out. 

When they get to the ER, Sam hands Bucky the file and directs him to the bay Steve is in. Bucky takes a breath and pulls back the curtain. “Mr. Rogers?”

The man who turns to face him is fucking gorgeous. Bucky is a little awestruck by his beauty. Sculpted jaw and cheekbones, blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, lips that look like they could suck the chrome off a bumper. 

“Yeah,” he says, shifting a bit in the bed. He’s still in some pain apparently. “What’s up, doc?” he says, unironically. 

“Sorry. I’m your radiologist, Bucky. I just wanted to let you know that your x-ray looks good and after Dr. Stark goes over it with you, you’ll probably be free to go.” 

“Nothing’s broken?” Steve asks. 

“Not that I could see. Now, the doc may have you go for an MRI to be sure, but there’s nothing on the x-ray I could see.” 

“That’s a good thing,” Steve says. 

“Very.” Bucky takes a deep breath before he continues. “Look, this is going to sound weird -”

“Okay….”

“But I saw you come in earlier,” (a little white lie won’t hurt anyone) “and I know you’re in some discomfort -”

“Pain. Pain is the word I’d use,” Steve says. 

“Fair enough. But I don’t suppose that when you’re up and able, you’d want to get a coffee or something?” 

Steve’s mouth drops open and Bucky knows he’s gone too far. He’s gonna get reported and fired for sure. At least his resume is up to date. He thinks. He really should check on that. 

“You’re asking me out.”

“Yes?” Bucky says hesitantly. 

“While I’m in the ER.” 

“Okay, you know what? Bad idea.” Bucky turns to leave the enclosure. 

“No, no. I didn’t say it was a bad idea.” 

“No?”

“Just, really, really unexpected.”

Just then the curtain flings open and Dr. Stark stands there. “Hey, Barnes. Whatcha doing here?”

“I was just, uh, letting Mr. Rogers know that his x-ray looks good.”

“Huh. Isn’t that my job?” Stark asks. He holds out his hands for the file, which Bucky hands him. Stark pulls the x-ray out of the folder and holds it up to the light. “Nice Throckmorton,” he says. 

“What’s that?” Steve asks. 

“Oh, nothing. Just a spot on the pelvis.” He side eyes Bucky, who blushes and looks away. “If Barnes says you’re good to go, you probably are,” Stark says. 

“No MRI?” Steve asks. 

“No. I’d say follow up with your ortho in two to four days. If you’re still having pain, he or she may send you for one. What’s your pain level now?”

“Probably about a five,” Steve says. 

“I’ll write you a script for some Tylenol with codeine. Take them only if you really feel the need too. Otherwise, you should be fine with Aleve. Nice meeting you, Mr. Rogers.” Stark walks out, but not before shoving Steve’s file at Bucky, leaving the two of them alone again. 

“The nurse should be along to discharge you soon,” Bucky says. “I’d better get going.” 

“Wait,” Steve says. “You haven’t given me your number yet.” 

“Oh. OH. You still want to…?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I want to. You might have to give me a few days to heal up, though.” 

“I can do that,” Bucky says, pulling his phone from his pocket.


	59. The Vet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve waits at the vet with Dodger. A stranger with a cat on a leash enters.

Steve and Dodger sit in the waiting room of the vet’s office waiting to be called back for Dodger’s annual checkup and shots. Dodger’s head rests on Steve’s thigh, clearly wary of what may happen to him in a few minutes. Steve scratches his head and ruffles his ear, reassuring him that it’s going to be okay. He hasn’t said anything about the shots yet. He hopes Dodger will forgive him. 

He adjusts the ball cap on his head as the main door opens and a man walks in with a cat. On a leash. What the hell? He’s never seen anyone walk a cat on a leash before. It’s a pretty cat, all white with blue eyes. The cat’s owner, however, is flat out gorgeous. 

As the man gets checked in, Steve checks him out. He’s tall, lean, dark hair that’s just a little bit too long, and eyes that match his cat’s. Not to mention that he’s filling out those jeans quite nicely, his thighs straining against the denim. When he turns around, Steve is caught staring, and they share an awkward smile. 

As the man sits in a chair across from him, Dodger lifts his head to look at the cat. “It’s okay, buddy,” Steve says, petting the animal’s head. “He’s not gonna hurt you.” 

“She,” the man says. 

“Huh?” Steve says dumbly. 

“My cat. She’s a girl.” 

“Oh.” Steve nods and watches as the cat approaches Dodger. He’s worried that there’s about to be a fight, but the cat stretches her face up toward Dodger, who meets her halfway and they bump noses. The cat rubs her face against Dodger’s. The dog lays down on the floor and the cat snuggles up next to him. 

“Huh,” the man says. “She’s not that friendly.” He looks at Steve and smiles. “Must be some dog you’ve got there.”

“And some cat,” Steve says. He holds out a hand to shake. “Steve. And this is Dodger.” 

“Bucky. And Alpine.” 

They shake hands and Steve swears he feels a spark that’s not just static electricity. They quiet for a moment and he’s about to go out on a limb and take a chance when the vet tech comes out calling “Dodger Rogers?”

Steve and Bucky both look toward her voice. “That’s us,” Steve says, standing. Dodger does the same while Alpine looks entirely put out at having to move. 

“Dodger Rogers?” Bucky smirks at him. “Cute.” Then winks. 

Steve reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He fishes out a business card which he presents to Bucky. “You know. If you ever want to…” he trails off. 

Bucky takes the card but never breaks eye contact with Steve. “Thanks,” he says. 

Steve blushes profusely as he heads toward the waiting vet tech. He resolutely does not look at her, ducking his head as Dodger leads him through the door. 

It’s not even two minutes later when Steve’s phone pings with a text message. He doesn’t recognize the number. 

It’s Bucky. I’d love to.


	60. The Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s the nicest little tradition in Steve’s small apartment building. Every Monday morning, someone leaves a plate of fresh-baked cookies on the little decorative table by the elevator.

There’s the nicest little tradition in Steve’s small apartment building. Every Monday morning, someone leaves a plate of fresh-baked cookies on the little decorative table by the elevator. It’s been going on for a good six months now, and Steve loves picking up a cookie each week on his way out the door to work. The plate is always gone when he comes home Monday night.

There’s only one thing wrong. He has no idea who the baker is, and it’s driving him crazy. Granted, he doesn’t know everyone in his building, but there’s only ten units in the walk-up, so he feels like he should know who it is. His fault for not trying to get to know his neighbors. 

But then, one Monday, he exits the elevator and there are no cookies. He looks at his watch; he’s not early, so the cookies should be there. He sighs, missing his little bit of sugar kick, but he supposes it couldn’t go on forever. 

When he gets back that night, however, the plate of cookies is on the table with a note: Sorry for missing you this morning. There’s no indication as to which tennant placed them there. No apartment number, no signature, nothing. He’s disappointed that he still doesn’t know who the mystery baker is, but smiles as he takes one of the baked goodies. 

Another couple of weeks pass, and the cookies show up on the table each Monday. They haven’t been late again. Steve smiles at them every Monday as he pops one into his mouth on his way to work. He’s glad the mystery baker is back on schedule. 

It’s another month later when it finally happens. 

Steve is having a hell of a night. It’s one of those nights when he just can’t get to sleep no matter what he tries. He’s popped a melatonin, he’s tried breathing exercises, switching positions, hell, he’s read his damned insurance policy for crying out loud. Nothing works. His clock tells him it’s 4 am. Fuck. He’s going to be useless by about ten o’clock, he’s certain of it. 

He sighs and figures he may as well get up since he’s not going to sleep any time soon. So he does. He gets up and makes a pot of coffee and decides to pay his bills for the month. Not the most fun thing to do, but it’s one less thing to do later. 

He still makes his rent payment by check, so he pops it into an envelope, addresses and stamps it, and heads down to the bank of mailboxes opposite the elevator to mail it. He figures since it’s so early, he doesn’t need to get dressed, so he heads down in bare feet and pj pants. 

He pushes the elevator button and when the door opens, he pushes through, right into someone. Someone holding a plate of cookies. That are now on the floor. 

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry,” Steve says. As the door closes, he squats down to pick them up, knowing they’re not salvageable. “The cookies!” 

The person in the elevator squats down next to him. “It’s okay,” he says, placing a hand on Steve’s arm. “I’ve got more dough upstairs.” 

Steve snaps his head up to see who spoke. He never expected the cookie maker to be a man. But holy fuck he’s pretty. Blue eyes, a day’s worth of stubble, dark hair. How has he never run into this guy before? 

“You do?”

“Yeah, I made a double batch this time. I can make more.” His voice does something to Steve. 

“I’m so sorry, though.” He places the ruined cookies on the plate and stands. He wipes his hands on his pj’s and thinks fuck it. “You need any help?” He smiles awkwardly. 

The man stands and takes Steve in, appearing to consider it. “Sure,” he says after a moment. “I’m Bucky. 4B.”

“Steve. 2A.” He touches the back of his head nervously. The elevator door opens on the first floor. “Let me mail this and we’ll head up to your place.” 

“I’d like that,” Bucky says. Steve thinks he sees him blush a bit. 

He drops the envelope into the slot and gets back into the elevator. He thinks that today may not be so bad after all.


	61. The Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is running late. His office nemesis shows up in the elevator.

Bucky is running late. Not by much, but it’s enough to make him anxious. He notices that someone just got into the elevator several steps ahead of him. “Hold the elevator, please,” he says to the man. 

The man turns around and Bucky sees who it is. Steve Fucking Rogers. His mortal work enemy. Steve smirks at him and pushes a button low on the console and Bucky is certain he’s pushed the Door Closed one as the doors begin to close. 

Bucky sprints and shoves his arm through the doors to stop them from closing. “Thanks,” he says sarcastically. Could Steve be any more of a jerk?

“No problem,” Steve says back to him just as sarcastically. 

Bucky seethes for a moment, then impulsively leans over and pushes every button on the panel. If he’s going to be late, so is Steve. Fuck that guy. 

“Oh, very mature,” Steve says. 

“You started it when you pushed the door close button.” 

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

They’re quiet until the fifth floor. “What is with you?” Steve asks, exasperation apparent in his voice.

“What’s with me? What’s with you?”

“You’re such an asshole,” Steve says. 

“Takes one to know one.” And Jesus, when did Bucky become twelve? 

“I hate you,” Steve says. He reaches out and shoves Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky looks down at where he was just touched. “The fuck, Rogers?” So he pushes right back at Steve. Hell if he’s gonna be pushed around by this dick. 

Steve pushes back. “What are you gonna do about it?” he asks. 

So Bucky pushes him again. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Steve pushes the elevator stop button. “I’m gonna do this.” 

Steve grabs Bucky by the shoulders, pulls him forward and kisses him. What the hell? Bucky thinks grabbing Steve’s biceps to shove him away. That was before realizing Steve is actually a pretty good kisser, and Bucky kisses him right back. It quickly turns heated, Bucky opening his mouth to let Steve in. It’s hot. It’s amazing. 

After a moment, Bucky comes to his senses and shoves Steve off of him. They stare at each other apparently not sure what to say. Steve pushes the elevator stop button again and the car begins to move. 

Bucky turns to look at the doors and straightens his tie. “You’re still an asshole.”

“So are you,” Steve says as he straightens his own tie. “Dinner?”

“Fine.”


	62. The Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets seated next to a nervous flyer.

Steve makes his way down the aisle, bag in hand. He finds his seat and stuffs the bag in the overhead bin. He’d asked for a window seat, but now that he sees how small this plane actually is, he wishes he’d gotten the aisle seat instead. He’d thought for sure that it’d be bigger considering the flight is nearly six hours long. Oh, well. 

He’s just buckling in when his seatmate sits, muttering a nervous, “Hi.” Steve says back a cursory, “Hey,” in response. The man sits and buckles in as well. Steve notices he rubs his hands down his thighs, and his leg starts to bounce. 

Great. He’s seated next to a nervous flyer. Maybe Steve will buy that seven dollar bottle of whiskey to help him get through the flight. He doesn’t need to be 100% sober when they land. He’s going to Vegas, after all. 

He figures it’ll be better if he tries to help the man calm down by distracting him. “First time going to Vegas?” he asks. The man turns to him, a look on his face that says he doesn’t understand what Steve just said, so he repeats it. 

“Oh. Uh, yeah. My best friend is getting married. The guys all flew out yesterday. I couldn’t get the day off work, so I’m on my own.” 

“Yeah?” Steve takes a good look at the man next to him. Hair that’s a little too long, piercing blue eyes, long fingers, thick thighs. He wonders if the guy has a date for the wedding since he’s flying alone. “Bachelor party or actual wedding?”

“Actual wedding.” 

“No date?” Is it weird to flirt with your seatmate? Steve figures they’ve boarded at JFK, they must be at least somewhat close to each other. Unless they’re from the far end of the island, in which case, he’s fucked. 

The man smiles. “Nah. I’m not dating anyone at the moment.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the seatbelt sign. We will be fifth in line for take off. 

“Fuck,” the man says. His leg bounces faster. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve says, placing his hand on the man’s leg. To his surprise, the man grabs his hands and laces his fingers through Steve’s, who huffs a laugh. 

“Sorry,” the man says as he tries to untangle their fingers. Steve stops him by placing his hand on his. 

“It’s okay. I get it. You need to hold my hand, that’s okay.” 

They stare at each other for a moment before the man says, “Thank you.” 

“I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Bucky.” 

“Don’t suppose you’d like a date for the wedding?” Steve mentally smacks himself for asking that. “Sorry. You don’t have -”

“I’d like that,” Bucky says. A blush creeps up into his face. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”


	63. The Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky should've paid attention to where he was going.

Really, it’s his own fault. 

Bucky had been walking down the street, magazine in hand, glancing at the article in it every so often, only halfway paying attention to where he was going. But in his defense, the path was clear, and the last time he looked up, no one was in his way going forward. 

What he didn’t count on was the guy exiting the restaurant to his left. They didn’t collide outright, but the man stops near him, continuing on his phone conversation, gesticulating wildly to the person on the other end. 

It’s how Bucky got punched in the face. Well, smacked, not really punched. But it felt like he got punched. “Oh, god,” Bucky yelps as he drops his magazine, his hands going to his eye. 

“Oh, fuck,” the man says. “I’ll call you back.” He slips his phone into his pocket. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He goes to Bucky, not quite touching him, but hovers his hands over him as if spotting him. 

“Yeah,” he says wearily. “I think so.” He pulls his hand away from his eye and blinks a couple of times to make sure. He’s pretty sure he’s all right. He turns to the man who hit him, and fuck, he’s hot. 

“Shit,” the man says. “It looks like I scratched you.” This time he does put his hand on Bucky’s back. “Come on. Let’s get you some ice.” 

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” He scrunches up his eye and winces at where he got hit. “Okay, maybe not.” 

The man leads him towards the restaurant he just came from. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats. 

“You don’t have to do this. I’ll be okay.” 

“I feel bad. I just punched you in the face.”

Bucky laughs and lets himself be guided to the restaurant’s bar as the man asks the bartender for some ice and a towel. Bucky is about to take the makeshift ice pack when the man picks it up instead and gingerly places it on Bucky’s face making him wince.

“I’m sorry,” the man says quietly. He’s close to Bucky’s face and Bucky thinks he may have a little crush on the guy. 

“You can stop apologizing.” 

“Still sorry,” the man says. He brushes Bucky’s hair off his face and Bucky sucks in a breath. The two lock eyes for a moment before the man looks away. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Bucky places his hand on the one that’s holding the ice. “Bucky.”


	64. The Home Depot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets a little help with the paint chips he's looking at.

Bucky stands in the Home Depot looking over paint chips. He’s finally decided to paint his bedroom, the first step to getting rid of the beige walls throughout the house. He’s currently trying to decide between a light gray and a butter yellow when a voice beside him says, “Excuse me.” 

“Sure,” Bucky says as he steps to the left to let the man reach for his own paint chip. Bucky glances at the color palette the man picks: light greens. Huh. Not his thing, but whatever. To each their own. 

Bucky steps back a half step to take in the chip display to see if anything else catches his eye when the man next to him squats down to look at single use paint samples that line the shelf underneath. 

Bucky’s breath hitches just before he forgets how to breathe entirely. The man’s jeans have gapped at the back and his shirt has ridden up a bit to reveal a pair of pale blue lace panties. Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from them. He swallows thickly and finally lets out a shaky breath. 

It’s then that the man looks up at him. “You okay?” He appears to have no idea that his panties are on full display for Bucky. 

Bucky manages a nod and his gaze finds his way to the man’s face. Fuck, he’s beautiful with blue eyes, a beard, and hair that’s long enough for Bucky to get his hands into and pull roughly. He feels his cock twitch and he needs to derail that train of thought right now or else he’s going to end up with a hard on in the middle of the fucking Home Depot on a Saturday afternoon. 

The man puts his hands on his thighs and pushes himself to a standing position. “Whatcha painting?” he asks. 

“Bedroom,” Bucky says. He repeats it because his voice falters the first time around. 

“Bedroom, huh?” The man leans in to look at Bucky’s paint chips. “Go with the grey. The yellow will be too bright. You want something calming and relaxing for the bedroom.” 

Bucky bites his lip as he looks at the man’s plush mouth. “Do I?” He internally rolls his eyes at his weak attempt at a flirt. 

The man leans in a little closer and whispers conspiratorially to him, “Well, if you’re into something a little more...bold...then go with a dark red. It’ll hide a multitude of sins.” The man fucking winks at him. 

“What about a nice pretty light blue?” Bucky’s eyes flick down to the man’s hips. 

“Blue is good,” he agrees. 

“With a little lace for decoration?” Bucky can hardly believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. 

The man smiles wickedly at him. “A little lace never hurt anyone.” He pauses before adding, “There’s a bar around the corner. Wanna go get some lunch and a drink?”

“So long as we can discuss the blue lace some more.”


	65. The Job Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is SO getting this job.

Steve sits nervously outside the office door as he waits for the person who’s interviewing him to come and get him. He straightens the lapels of his suit and makes sure his tie is right. He tries to be still, but his leg starts bouncing, and he puts a hand on it to stop it. 

He pulls out his phone to text the guy he met on Saturday night. He and Bucky had hit it off right away; conversation had flowed easily, so much so that Steve had taken him home. And, lord, what a night it had been. Bucky had taken charge, ordered him around, and it was exactly what Steve needed. What Steve needs is to just let go every once in a while and let someone else call the shots, and that’s exactly what Bucky did. It was amazing. In fact, he’s still got a sore thigh from that one position Bucky made him get into. 

It’s the start of what Steve hopes will be an actual relationship. They had texted a bunch on Sunday, so Steve’s metaphorical fingers are crossed. 

Steve pulls out his phone and smiles at it as he texts Bucky: Getting ready to go into that interview. Wish me luck!

The response comes back almost immediately: Good luck!

As the door to the office opens, Steve catches his breath. It’s Bucky. He’s interviewing with Bucky! He feels the blush creep into his cheeks. “Bu - Mr. Barnes?” 

Bucky offers a hand to shake. “Mr. Rogers. Good to meet you. Come on in.” Bucky steps out of the way to allow Steve to enter the office. 

As soon as he closes the door, Bucky is on Steve, shoving him up against the door, kissing along his jaw. Steve does his best not to moan too loudly as Bucky’s thigh presses into his crotch. 

“If I had known you were my nine o’clock,” Bucky says tugging Steve’s hair so he has access to his neck, “I’d’ve prepared better.”

Steve does not whimper, thank you very much, but does let out a low breathy moan as he feels his cock respond to Bucky’s ministrations. “Guess I’m not getting this job, huh?”

Bucky pulls back and takes Steve’s face in his hands. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re so getting this job. I’ve always wanted an assistant who was at my beck and call. For anything.”


	66. The Jogger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is going crazy, and he doesn’t know what to do. 
> 
> This absolutely gorgeous man has been jogging by his house, shirtless, for the past two weeks. 
> 
> And it’s killing him.

Bucky is going crazy, and he doesn’t know what to do. 

This absolutely gorgeous man has been jogging by his house, shirtless, for the past two weeks. 

And it’s killing him. 

The first day Bucky saw him, his coffee cup had been about halfway to his lips when he noticed the man jog by. All he could do was follow the man’s path across the sidewalk in front of his house. And if he leaned in toward the window to see which way the man turned at the end of the block, well that’s nobody’s business but his own. 

By the fifth day, Bucky had worked out an entire backstory for the man. He’s taken to calling the man Ken, because, Ken doll, duh. He works at one of the local universities, which is why Bucky has never seen him before. He probably just started with the new semester. He probably teaches history, and now Bucky has a thing for blazers with patches on the elbows. 

By the tenth day, he’s practically out of his mind. He’s dreamt of the jogger at least twice, he’s scoured PornHub for videos of guys working out, and he’s found himself distracted at work more times than he’d like to admit. This can’t be healthy. 

It’s on day fifteen that he decides to do something about it. Just what that something is, he doesn’t know yet, but he can’t go on pining after this mystery jogger forever. He starts with something easy. He’ll take his mail out to the mailbox the next morning and see how that goes.

The next morning comes and he does just that. He times his trot out to the box with when Ken will be coming by. It works! They exchange pleasantries as Ken sails by him, that little “Morning!” from him enough to keep Bucky satisfied for the rest of the day. 

Bucky does this again the next morning, and the next, and the next. Each day, Ken says his “Morning!” and Bucky returns it. The sound of Ken’s voice is breathy from the exertion, a little rough around the edges, and it’s what Bucky thinks about as he spills over his fist that night, not for the first time, jerking off to thoughts of Ken. 

He gets an idea for the next day. He’ll bring Ken a bottle of water. He’ll hand it to him as he’s jogging by. A little something nice for a neighbor. And if he can have more than single word conversations with Ken, so much the better. 

So, the next morning, Bucky makes his way to the mailbox with a bottle of water in hand, ready to hand it off to Ken as he’s jogging by. Only this time, Bucky manages to trip over his own two feet and lands right in front of Ken on the sidewalk. He’s put his hands down to break his fall and they’re now scraped and bleeding. The water bottle rolls into the street.

“Oh, my god,” Ken says. “Are you okay?” He squats down to check him out. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, wincing and looking at his hands. “My pride’s hurt more than anything.” It’s then that he looks up at Ken, and he sucks in a breath that he hopes he can pull off as a bit of pain management. Ken gorgeous from a distance, but up close, he’s just stupid pretty. It’s not fair. 

Ken pushes himself back up, and holds his hand out to Bucky to help him up. Bucky begs off. “No, I’m scraped up pretty good.” He manages to stand without putting too much pressure on his palms to push himself off the ground. 

“Can I get you anything?”

Bucky huffs a laugh. 

“What?” Ken’s brow furrows, but there’s laughter in his voice. Bucky loves the sound it makes. 

“I was coming out here to bring you a bottle of water.” Bucky can feel the blush rising in his cheeks. When Ken doesn’t say anything, he continues. “I see you jogging out here every morning, so I thought I’d be, I don’t know, neighborly, and bring you some water, and wound up ass over teakettle in front of you instead.” 

“Ass over teakettle?” This time Steve does laugh and Bucky’s heart skips a beat. He doesn’t even know this man and he’s practically gone on him already. 

“Yeah.” He looks at his palms and realizes he needs to get them cleaned out and possibly bandaged up. “I should go get these cleaned,” he says. 

“You need some help -?” he waits for a name. 

“Bucky.”

“Steve.”

“Nice to meet you. I think I can manage. But would you like some coffee?” he adds hastily.

“Coffee’s always good,” Steve - not Ken - says. They lock eyes for a few seconds before Bucky ducks his head away. 

Coffee is a good start.


	67. The Kitten Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpine is pregnant. Steve's cat is the father.

There’s a knock at the door. Steve’s not expecting anyone, so he figures it’s probably a JW trying to convince him to believe in Jesus or something. Whatever. He’ll just accept the literature, say thank you, and toss it when they go. 

But he opens the door to his neighbor, Bucky. They’ve barely exchanged more than a few pleasantries as they pass each other in their driveways. And if Steve has a low key crush on him, that’s nobody’s business but his own. 

“Hey, Bucky. What can I do for you?”

Bucky pushes his way past Steve and into his house. “We have a problem.” 

Steve’s mind races. What could possibly be the issue? Did he park in front of Bucky’s house by mistake? Cut his grass too low? “Okay. What’s wrong?”

Bucky sighs. “My kitten got out a few weeks ago.”

“I remember you looking for her. What’s her name?” 

“Alpine. She’s pregnant. And I’m pretty sure they’re yours.” 

That’s what this is about? A pregnant cat? Steve barks out a laugh. “I don’t have a cat,” he says. 

“You feed that stray that’s always around here, though.”

And Bucky’s got a point. “Oh. Right. So, what do we do?” 

“I think we have to raise these little kitten babies as our own.” 

Steve laughs. “Do what now?” 

Bucky huffs in frustration. “It’s not funny. My cat is pregnant! I’m not ready to be a father!”

And before Steve can stop himself, he says in a voice lower than he intended, “So you need a daddy?” He immediately clamps his hand over his mouth as his eyes go wide. He did not mean to say that. Well, he did, just not out loud. 

Steve can see the moment Bucky goes from worried to interested. His eyes get larger and he sucks in a breath. “We are tabling that until we figure out the kitten situation.”


	68. The Pillow Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pillow fight leads to feelings.

WHOMP!

“The fuck, Rogers?” 

Bucky drops his controller, the game suddenly forgotten. He’s just been whomped in the face with a pillow by Steve, who’s smiling like an idiot over him. 

“Pillow fight!” Steve tosses a pillow at Bucky, and shuffles from foot to foot looking for a fight. 

“What are you, twelve?” Bucky asks. 

WHOMP

“Come on, I’m not even -”

WHOMP

“All right. That’s it.”

Bucky stands and Steve takes a step back to avoid getting whomped with the pillow. Bucky gets two good hits in before Steve fights back. The idiot is laughing like he’s having the best time ever. And okay, Bucky will admit, it’s kind of fun. He can’t remember the last time he had a pillow fight. 

“Thought you didn’t want to do this, Buck,” Steve says, breathing faster from the exertion. He hits Bucky in the side. 

“My honor was at stake.” 

Bucky manages to catch Steve upside the head and Steve falls to the floor. Bucky quickly straddles him and hits him in the face twice more before Steve is yelling “You win” to get him to stop. Mercifully, Bucky does. 

But then, Steve, that bastard, lunges up and starts tickling him, and soon, their positions are reversed, Bucky on the floor with Steve straddling his hips. Steve is relentless, not stopping for anything. Bucky finally cries “Uncle” and Steve stops. 

They stare at each other for a moment, breathing heavily. When Steve closes the gap between them and kisses him, Bucky has no idea what to do for a moment. He obviously waits too long because Steve pulls back and says, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have -”

“Oh, yes, you should have,” Bucky says, reaching for his shirt to pull him back down.


	69. The Layover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get frisky on the layover.

Bucky and Steve have been dancing around this thing, this whatever it is they have going on for entirely too long. They’ve flown together six - no seven - times now, and Bucky wants Steve so badly, it physically hurts. But Steve is the captain of the plane, and Bucky is just a flight attendant, and in his experience, the two rarely, if ever mix. 

Which is why Bucky is somewhat confused when Steve claps him on the shoulder and sits next to him at the hotel bar like they’ve known each other for ages. “Hey Bucky. How are you?” He indicates to the bartender that he’ll have whatever Bucky is having. 

Bucky stiffens a little bit and takes a sip of his whiskey sour. “I’m good. You?” 

“Good. Good.” 

They sit in silence while waiting for Steve’s drink. Bucky thinks it’s quite possibly the most awkward silence in all of humanity. But then Steve’s knee brushes against Bucky’s thigh. And it stays there. 

The bartender sets Steve’s drink in front of him. Bucky looks down at where their legs touch then up at Steve, who stares at the back of the bar. Bucky moves his leg, but Steve’s leg finds his again a moment later. 

Okay, he’s not imagining it. Steve is quite possibly coming on to him. This time Bucky leaves his leg touching Steve’s. He drops his voice just a little bit. “Got plans for the layover?” 

Steve continues to stare straight ahead. “Nothing pressing,” he says. He turns to Bucky, his eyes heavy lidded with what Bucky can only say is want. “Nothing that can’t be changed. You?”

Bucky looks at the back of the bar. “I could be persuaded to get into a bit of trouble.” This is it. The moment of truth. 

Steve downs his drink, pulls out his wallet, and tosses a twenty on the bar. He doesn’t look at Bucky when he says “Room 523. Ten minutes.” Steve turns to leave and then leans in close to Bucky. 

“And you will call me Captain.”


	70. The Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes over to take care of an ailing Steve.

Steve is miserable. He’s got a cold, his nose is stuffy, his chest is congested, and he’s just feeling shitty. He supposes he should be used to it. He’s always getting sick, but he’s tired of it. Tired of his body betraying him. Tired of being susceptible to all sorts of illnesses. His small body is just flat out tired. 

He sits on the sofa, wrapped in a thick cardigan, his legs tucked up underneath him. He holds a hot cup of tea between his thin fingers. He tries to inhale some of the steam coming off the liquid, but he’s too stuffed up to take advantage of it. 

He’s about to pull the blanket off the back of the sofa and snuggle up when he hears a key in the lock of his apartment’s door. The only one who has a key is his best friend, Bucky. 

And at that he pffts. Best friend. What a joke. Steve’s been in love with Bucky since they were fifteen and Bucky had saved him from a bully in gym class. One more thing to be miserable about today, being close to his unrequited love. Great. 

Bucky enters the apartment, arms full, and a giant smile on his face. “ I brought blankets, takeout, and your favorite movie. I know it won’t fix everything, but it might help.” He’s just so fucking earnest that Steve smiles despite himself. 

“Hey, Buck.” He sets his tea on the coffee table. 

Bucky sets down the takeout packages of Chinese food and tosses the blankets on top of Steve, then makes his way to the DVD player to pop in Galaxy Quest. It never fails to make Steve smile. 

Steve makes his way out from under the blanket pile and Bucky helps get him covered up properly. “I don’t have a fever,” Steve says petulantly. “It’s just a cold.”

“Cold schmold. Now bundle up.” Bucky flops down next to him on the sofa, starts the movie, and opens up the takeout boxes. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want chow mein or boneless spare ribs, so I got both.” He holds both containers up for Steve to pick. 

“What’d you get?” Steve asks. 

“General Tso’s.”

“I’ll have that.” Steve reaches for the unopened container on the coffee table. 

“Punk,” Bucky says as he knocks his shoulder into Steve’s. He lets Steve take the box anyway.

“Jerk.” 

“I love you,” Bucky says as he kisses the top of Steve’s head. 

Steve freezes, chopsticks partway to his mouth. Did he imagine that? Did Bucky just tell him he loved him and kiss his head? No. That couldn’t be right. It must be a hallucination from the cold medicine he took earlier. 

He puts the chopsticks back in the container and looks at Bucky who looks embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t imagine it. “What was that?” he asks. 

Bucky’s hand goes to the back of his head. “I, um….”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, dejected. He knows Bucky only meant it platonically. He’ll let him off the hook. “I love you, too. You’re my best friend, you jerk.” 

Bucky opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. They sit back on the sofa with their food and watch the movie, an uncomfortable silence between them.


	71. Lucky Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky walks in on someone singing Madonna.

Bucky stares at Brock, wide eyed. The man just coughed into his hand right before taking Bucky’s to shake. What the fuck? As if there weren’t enough reasons to dislike the guy already. Now he really needs to wash his hands. 

He pushes open the bathroom door and stops. He can’t see around the corner to know what’s going on, but he can definitely hear it. He chuckles and waits to enter, enjoying the man’s singing. 

You must be my lucky star  
'Cause you shine on me wherever you are  
I just think of you and I start to glow  
And I need your light and baby, you know

Starlight, Starbright, first star I see tonight  
Starlight, Starbright, make everything all right  
Starlight, Starbright, first star I see tonight  
Starlight, Starbrigh, yeah

Bucky claps as he turns the corner, but stops when he sees who’s there. 

Steve Fucking Rogers. 

The man of Bucky’s wet dreams stands at the sink wearing only dress socks and boxer briefs. His mouth is full of toothpaste, and it’s obvious he’s been using his toothbrush as a microphone. He spits into the sink and wipes his mouth with a paper towel, tossing it into the bin. 

“Bucky. Sorry, Mr. Barnes. Hey. I didn’t expect anyone this late.” That much is obvious as he blushes profusely, Bucky taking note that it spreads all the way down to his chest. 

“Obviously not,” he says. He does his best not to stare, but he’s pretty sure he’s failing miserably. “What are you doing? Other than singing Madonna in your underwear?” 

“I’m, uh...I’m going to a wedding. I was just getting ready.” 

And that’s when Bucky notices the suit hanging on one of the stall doors and a pile of khakis and a polo shirt on the sink. 

“I guess you can’t go Casual Friday to a wedding, huh?”

“I’m pretty sure Natasha would kill me if I showed up like that.”

Bucky’s heart sinks a little. He supposes it was too much to hope Steve was gay. “Your date?”

“The bride. She’s marrying my best friend, Sam.” Steve reaches for the suit on the door. 

“Gotcha.” Bucky finally makes his way to the sink to wash his hands. He ducks his head and sneaks a peek at Steve while the man pulls his suit pants off the hanger. He bends over a little to pull them on, and Bucky bites his lip to keep from making any noise. It’s not fair. 

“I, uh...don’t suppose you want to come with me?” Steve asks. Bucky looks at him in the mirror, but he doesn’t turn around. That telltale flush crosses his shoulders. 

Bucky couldn’t have heard that right. “Do what now?” 

“I don’t have a date. Thought if you weren’t busy, you’d might want to come with.” He turns around, his pants hanging open while he takes the dress shirt off the hanger. “I mean, if you’re not busy. And you want to. And I’m gonna be bored as all hell, so I thought -” he trails off. 

“A wedding, huh?” Bucky pretends to contemplate it for a good five seconds. He was going to say yes to whatever came out of Steve’s mouth anyway. “Sure. It’s been a while since I’ve been to one, and what I was doing tonight can easily be changed.”

“Oh, no. I don’t want you to change your plans. Only if you want to.” Steve tucks in his shirt and fastens his pants. He flips up the collar to loop the tie around his neck.

“My plans involved Chinese takeout and Netflix with my cat. I think I can manage a rain check on that.” Bucky smiles at him and wonders if this is a date, or a date date. He hopes it’s the latter. 

Steve struggles with his tie, and Bucky comes to his rescue, expertly tying it up for him. They look at each other for a moment, something - Bucky’s not sure what - passing between them. Bucky clears his throat and turns away from him. 

Steve puts on his coat and slips into his shoes. He reaches for Bucky’s hand. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I appreciate your coming with me.”

“My pleasure.” Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand. Steve picks up his clothes and they head out the door.


	72. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

Bucky and Steve make their way to their hotel room for the night. They’d arrived early that morning for the conference, so while they didn’t have a room ready yet, they parked their bags with the front desk. Now that the long day was over, they both just wanted to crash and sleep as long as possible for round two tomorrow. 

Their office had dictated that expenses were to be curtailed, so they’d be sharing a room. They didn’t mind. They’d known each other for a while and were friends outside of work, so it wasn’t a big deal to share a room. 

Sharing a bed, however….

“What do you mean there are no other rooms available?....We booked this room months ago….Yes, I understand the conference….Not even another single?....What about a roll-away?....*sigh*....Fine….Yeah. Thank you.” 

Steve hangs up the phone. “No go,” he yells to the bathroom. 

Bucky emerges a moment later, drying his hands. “Not even a roll-away?” 

“Nope.” Steve scrubs a hand over his face, looking at the queen-size mattress, wondering how the two of them will fit as they’re not exactly small men. “Looks like we’re sharing this bed.” 

“It’s fine,” Bucky says. “Just so long as you don’t sleep naked.” 

“Pfft. You either.” 

The two get ready for bed, each taking turns brushing their teeth in the bathroom. Steve exits just as Bucky drops his pants to put on his pajama bottoms. Bucky wears blue boxer-briefs and they look amazing on his ass. 

See, the thing about Steve Rogers is that he has a crush on his colleague, but is too chicken shit to say anything. How he’s going to manage to sleep in the same bed with Bucky, he has no idea. 

“How many pillows do you need?” Steve asks as a way to distract himself. 

“Two should do it,” Bucky says folding his pants and placing them in his suitcase. He pulls out a pair of lounge pants covered in Red Sox logos and tugs them on. 

“There’s only three pillows. I use three.” 

“Three? Seems excessive.” 

“Two for my head, one to snug - you know what. Shut up.” 

Bucky laughs at this revelation. “Maybe there’s an extra one in the closet.” He goes to check and does indeed find one extra pillow. He tosses it to Steve. “Now you just need to find a snuggle pillow,” he teases.

Steve grumbles under his breath. “Should never have said anything.” 

“Want me to go down to the gift shop and see if they have a stuffed bear or something?” Bucky barks out a laugh at his own dig. 

“Just get in the bed, Barnes. It’s been a long day.” Steve throws back the covers on his side of the bed and gets in. 

Bucky does the same on his side. He chuckles while doing it. “I can’t believe you need a snuggle pillow.”

Steve sighs. “I normally sleep with a full body pillow, but it’s not like I can carry one in my luggage.” 

“Okay, that makes a little more sense,” Bucky says. “It’s probably better for your back, right?” He knows that Steve’s back can give him problems at times, the product of an old football injury.

“It is,” Steve says. “By having my leg elevated a bit, there’s less pressure on my hips and lower back.”

Bucky leans over and turns out the light. “Will you be okay for tonight without it?” 

“It’s just one night,” Steve says. “Besides, I can always snuggle you if it gets too bad.” And where the hell did that come from? Bucky is silent and Steve knows he’s just ruined their friendship. 

“I...wouldn’t be opposed to that,” Bucky says softly enough that Steve is sure he misheard him. 

“What?”

“Sure. Come on over. If it helps you sleep.” 

Steve feels Bucky scoot down a little so he’s flatter on the bed and stretch out his arm to accommodate Steve. Steve doesn’t hesitate and inches his way over to Bucky. He tucks himself into Bucky’s side, head on Bucky’s shoulder, his arm thrown over Bucky’s chest, and his leg over the other man’s. 

“You’re sure?”

“I offered, didn’t I?”

They say goodnight and after a few minutes, Bucky dozes off, his soft snores giving him away. Steve, however, is hyper-aware of every little movement and sound he makes, and he knows he’s not getting any sleep tonight.


	73. Hot Triple Venti, Soy, Sugar Free Hazelnut Latte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's knows the hot guy's order by heart.

6:45. 

He’ll be here any minute. Bucky’s favorite customer of the day will be coming to the drive through soon. He knows the guy’s order by heart - hot, triple venti, soy, sugar free hazelnut latte - and has the cup ready for him, knowing he’ll be there shortly. He just wishes he knew the guy’s name. The drive through means no name on the cup. 

“It’s a great morning at Starbucks. This is Bucky. What can I get started for you?” Bucky says into the mic as the next car rolls up. He doesn’t pay attention to the car in the camera. 

“Morning, Bucky,” the familiar voice says. 

Bucky smiles. “Let me guess: hot, triple venti, soy, sugar free hazelnut latte?”

“Actually, I’m spicing it up a little today. I’ll have a hot, triple venti, pumpkin spice latte. Extra whip” 

“It’s August,” Bucky teases. 

“Someone told me I should step out of my comfort zone,” the man says. 

“Can I get you any breakfast this morning?” He never gets breakfast even though Bucky always asks. 

“A slice of pumpkin bread?” 

“You really are branching out today. Come on around for your total.” 

“Thank you.” 

There are three cars ahead of Hot Guy, and Bucky gets a little more excited with each passing vehicle. “Hey, there,” he says when the man pulls up. “That’s $14.84.” The guy hands over his card which Bucky processes. “You doing okay, today?” 

“I am, Buck. How about you?” 

“Good, thanks. Big plans for the day?” He leans out of the window and hands the guy his pastry. Their fingers brush, and Bucky tries not to jolt too much at the contact. 

“Just work. Maybe dinner out. We’ll see.” 

“Sounds good.” He reaches behind him for the coffee cup his fellow barista placed there for him. “Here you go. See you tomorrow?” 

“Of course,” the guy says, dropping a tip in the plastic box on the window. “Bye, Bucky.” And he drives off. 

Seven o’clock is when the morning really gets going, so there’s a steady line of cars at Bucky’s window for the next two hours. Being so busy makes the time go by quickly, though, so he doesn’t mind. 

When a small break in the line finally happens, his supervisor takes the tip box to empty into the safe so they can divy it up when the shift ends. He’s back in a moment and hands Bucky a piece of paper as he places the box back on the velcro that holds it in place. 

Bucky leans back on the counter and looks at the folded paper that has his name written on it. He opens it and reads:

Hey Bucky - 

I hope you have time for dinner tonight. I’d love to take you out. 7pm at Hops. 

Steve  
AKA hot, triple venti, soy, sugar free hazelnut latte

His number is scrawled underneath. Bucky sucks in a breath. He can’t believe it. He knows the guy’s name now. AND he asked Bucky out. Does he have time to go home and shower after his shift? He thinks so. 

He quickly pulls out his phone and texts Steve. 

B - It’s Bucky. 7pm at Hops. I’d love to. 

The reply is almost immediate.

S - I’ll see you there. 

Bucky does a fist pump and pockets his phone as the next car comes up to the drive through. 

“It’s a great day at Starbucks. This is Bucky. What can I get started for you?”


	74. Bucky's Spa Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky deserves this, dammit.

Bucky deserves this, dammit. 

That’s what he tells himself as he’s led through the narrow hallway to a changing room by a short brunette. 

“If you’ll strip, there’s a locker with a key in it to store your clothes and valuables, and a robe to get you to the room,” she says. “Once you’re ready, open the door and your massage therapist will come get you.” 

“Thanks,” he says, closing the door. As he strips and places his stuff in the locker, he wonders if he should be totally naked. He probably should’ve asked that. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulls off his boxer-briefs and places them in the locker, too. He closes the door and takes the key and places it in the robe’s pocket, then opens the door. 

He only waits for about a minute when the massage therapist comes to get him. And why didn’t anyone tell him his therapist was a man? Not to mention a ridiculously good-looking man with a chiseled jaw, blonde hair, and what looks like muscles on muscles. 

“You must be Bucky,” the man says, extending a hand. “I’m Steve, your massage therapist.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bucky replies. 

“Come on, and we’ll get you set up.” 

Steve leads Bucky through the other end of the hallway to his massage room. The lighting is dim, there’s a scent of a spice Bucky can’t quite place, and the white noise of a waterfall with soft instrumental music playing over it. It’s nice. 

“Now,” Steve starts. “I’ll give you a minute or two to get settled. Remove your robe and lay face down on the table. Cover up with the towel there.” 

Steve exits and Bucky does as he’s told. He really hopes that it’s okay that he’s naked. It probably is. Right? There are sheets and a blanket on the table, so they’ll get washed when he’s done, so it can’t be too bad. He lays down and puts his face through the round hole at the top of the table. Covering his ass while he’s face down is awkward, but he manages. 

He’s just settled when Steve gives a perfunctory knock and opens the door. “You ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Bucky says. 

Steve laughs. “That makes it sound like I’m going to be torturing you.” 

“It’s a deep tissue massage. That’s exactly what you’ll be doing.” 

Steve laughs again. Bucky hears him rub his hands together. “Just some massage oil. Now, let’s see about getting you relaxed, rather than hurt.” He positions himself at Bucky’s head and runs his oil-slicked hands down Bucky’s back, making sure to spread the oil around. He moves to Bucky’s side and gets to work. 

Bucky has no idea if he should be quiet, or if they should be talking. He feels like a giant awkward penguin. Then Steve hits a knot he didn’t know he had and Bucky lets out a low groan. 

“Found it,” Steve says. “That feel better?”

“Yeah. I didn’t even know it was there.” 

Steve makes quick work of the knot and moves along to the next spot. He spends several more minutes on Bucky’s back, not finding any more trouble spots, then moves down to his legs, kneading the muscles expertly. Bucky feels the towel creep up as Steve massages the back of his legs.

“Now,” Steve says. “It’s up to you. Do you want me to do your ass, or is that a no go zone?” 

“No. It’s fine,” Bucky answers lazily. He’s feeling all floaty and boneless. Steve’s hands are amazing. 

Steve removes the towel and gets to work. This time he does find a knot and Bucky yelps. “Do you sit on your wallet?” Steve asks. Bucky says he does. “You might want to move it to your front pocket. That’s what this one is from.” 

“Kay.” He’s incapable of anything more profound than that. 

Steve drapes the towel back over Bucky and instructs him to roll over so he can get to his chest. Bucky complies, but is ashamed to realize he’s hard. He mumbles out an apology. Steve, bless him, takes it in stride. “It happens sometimes. Nothing to worry about.” He ensures the towel is draped over all of Bucky, who closes his eyes and sighs, then gets a little more oil to start on Bucky’s front. 

As he does, Bucky wills his erection to go away. Much to his chagrin, it doesn’t. Christ. He’s going to have to take care of it before he leaves. And that’s just flat out awkward. At least, that’s his plan until…

“I, uh, I could take care of that for you, if you want,” Steve says. 

Bucky’s eyes fly open and he looks at Steve, who he thinks is blushing. It’s hard to tell in the low light. 

“I don’t - It’s not something I do, but -” Steve gestures to his own erection straining his black chinos. 

Bucky swallows. “Does it…? Is it extra?”

“No! No,” Steve says hurriedly. “Like I said, I don’t do this, but you’ve managed to, well…”

“Yes,” Bucky says breathily. “Please.” 

Steve removes the towel, gathers some oil off of Bucky’s stomach, and wraps his hand around Bucky’s cock. The massage oil makes it glide easily over him, and he sucks in a breath. He’s not going to last long, he’s certain of it. 

His breathing picks up as Steve’s hand flies over his cock. He’s taken aback when Steve leans down to kiss him. It takes him a moment, but soon, Bucky’s hand is in Steve’s hair and they’re making out with abandon. 

Bucky pulls away and mutters, “I’m close,” as he and Steve share each other’s air. 

“Yeah?” Steve asks. Bucky nods. “Come for me then, baby.” 

Bucky arches off the table as he comes, mouth open in a silent scream, knowing he can’t make any noise. His breathing begins to slow, and he looks up at Steve who is smiling at him. He releases Bucky’s cock and uses the towel to wipe off his hand and Bucky’s stomach. 

“I’ll give you a minute,” Steve says, kissing Bucky once more. He stands and exits the room. 

Jesus. What the fuck just happened? He just got a happy ending from his massage therapist. To say he’s on an endorphin high from the combination orgasm and massage is putting it mildly. Bucky swings his legs off the table and sits for a moment, trying to calm his breathing. He runs his hands through his hair, stands, and reaches for the robe. 

Back out in the hallway, he’s met by Steve who hands him a card. “I’d love to work on you again,” he says. “My cell is on the back.” He winks and then disappears down the hallway. 

As Bucky gets dressed again, he wonders if he has to wait the customary 48 hours after a date to call.


	75. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky likes fucking with Steve.

“You see my keys?”

“In the bowl.”

“Nope.”

“Jacket pocket?” 

Steve pats his pockets and lo and behold his keys are there. He could’ve sworn he put them in the bowl. “Huh.”

****

“Hey Buck, where is my sketchbook?”

“Kitchen counter.”

“Nope.” 

“Dining room table.”

“Huh.”

****

“Bucky, where is my phone?” 

“Bedside table.”

“Nope.”

“Coffee table.”

“Huh.”

****

It’s getting ridiculous at this point. Steve knows where he’s leaving his things. “Buck, where’s the shield?”

“Your side of the bed.”

“Nope.”

“Hall closet.”

“Huh.” And it’s then that Steve knows Bucky is just fucking with him at this point. There’s no way in hell he’d put the shield in the hall closet. He thinks back to all the times he’s asked Bucky about where an item was. Bucky had always known. Always. He decides to confront Bucky.

Bucky is on the sofa, reading a magazine, big grin on his face. “Find it?” he asks innocently.

“You’re fucking with me,” he says matter-of-factly. Bucky breaks down laughing. “Why?”

“I was bored?” He laughs even harder. 

Steve wants to be mad at him, he really does, but seeing Bucky so happy makes his heart swell. He strides over to Bucky, leans over him, and starts tickling him. Bucky laughs even harder, tears streaming down his face. “Uncle!” he cries, but Steve doesn’t let up just yet. Bucky needs to pay for making Steve question his sanity. Soon, Steve is laughing, too. 

After a minute, Steve lets up his assault, and settles down onto Bucky, laying between his legs. “I love you, Jerk.”

“I love you, too, Punk.”


	76. The Fluffer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A miscommunication ends with Steve's embarrassment.

Steve sits behind the cash register engrossed in the latest non-fiction book detailing just how debased Fox News is (and seriously, they can get fucked) when the bell above the door rings. He looks up to see a beautiful man enter the bookstore and just watches dumbly as the man shakes off the cold. 

The man spots Steve and smiles. “Hi, I’m Bucky. I’m the fluffer.” 

Steve isn’t quite sure he heard what he thought he heard. “Do what now?” he asks as he sets his book on the counter. 

“I’m the fluffer. Tony sent me.” 

And well. Steve supposes this isn’t the weirdest thing Tony has ever done. The man did once run part of the Boston Marathon in a thong for crying out loud.

“You’re Steve, right?” Steve nods. “Tony said you’d be the guy to hook up with.” 

Steve blinks and swallows thickly. Okay. So Tony got him a fluffer. Merry fucking Christmas to me, he thinks. 

“Um….yeah. Just…just let me lock the door and you can get started. Don’t want anyone walking in on it.” Steve pops out from behind the counter, taking three long strides to get to the front door. He flips the “Back in 15 Minutes” sign and locks it. He makes a quick scan of the store to ensure there are no customers around. He can’t remember anyone coming in within the past twenty minutes or so. 

“So, where do you want to do this,” Bucky asks, clapping his hands as he scans the store. He is apparently looking for a spot where no one will see them. 

“In the back?” Steve half asks, pointing to the back of the store. 

Bucky nods. “Okay. Shame it’s not up front, though.” 

Steve just about swallows his tongue. Did Bucky want to blow him in the front window for crying out loud? Good lord. 

“The back is more private,” Steve says. 

“Yes, but I find that people want to see me work. It’s exciting!” 

Steve closes his eyes. He can’t believe this is happening. The guy is a voyeur to boot. “That may be true for you, but I find a more…intimate experience…makes for better customers.” What the fuck does that even mean, he thinks. Steve makes his way to the back of the store, Bucky trailing behind him. 

“If you say so,” Bucky says. 

Steve can’t help but glance behind him every few steps just to make sure no one is looking in the window. He can’t believe he’s about to do this. He’s about to get a blow job from a professional fluffer! With one last glance around the store, he stops near the back, next to where the Christmas tree is set up. 

“Perfect!” Bucky exclaims. 

“Yeah, I guess it’ll do.” 

“I’ve had worse.” 

Steve tries not to think about that. “How do you want to do this?” he asks. 

“I find just diving right in is best. Start from the bottom and work my way up.” Bucky winks at him. 

Jesus. Okay. He can do this. Steve turns away from Bucky and quickly unbuckles his pants before he can think better of it. He shoves his jeans down around his thighs and turns around. 

“Whoa! What are you doing?” Bucky asks, throwing a hand up in front of his face to shield his view. 

“Getting ready for the fluff?”

“The TREE! I’m here to fluff up the TREE!” Bucky gestures to the pitiful artificial tree that hasn’t even got any ornaments on it yet. 

“The tree?” Steve asks, pulling up his pants again. “I thought that…you know what? Never mind. I’ve made a horrible mistake.” He buckles up and pushes past Bucky to go back to the counter to bury his face in the book he was reading. 

He spends the next half an hour reading the same paragraph over and over while Bucky works on the tree. He’s absolutely mortified at what transpired. He’s never going to live it down. Maybe he can make a TIFU post on Reddit and get a laugh out of it later. 

“All done,” Bucky says, startling Steve out of his stupor. “The tree looks much better than it did.” 

“Thanks. Listen, about earlier, I didn’t…I wouldn’t…” He can’t even finish the thought because the reality of the situation was that he very much was about to. 

“It’s fine,” Bucky reassures him. “It’s kind of funny, actually.” He spies a pen and a Post-It on the counter. “Here. My number.”

“What? Why?” 

“Have you seen what you’re packing?” And with that, Bucky turns and exits the shop with a wink and a smile, leaving Steve sitting there staring at the number.


	77. Nipple Piercing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve decides to get his nipples pierced. He just didn't count on the piercer being so hot.

Steve has made up his mind. He’s doing it, dammit. He’s getting his nipples pierced. Just a tiny bit of rebellion he can keep for himself. He’d thought about getting a tattoo, but he decided he’s too scrawny to get much of anything done, plus he’s anemic, so he didn’t want to chance taking a header with the little bit of blood loss a tattoo incurs. 

He made the appointment weeks ago on Sam’s recommendation. He’d used their piercer for his own nipple piercings and Prince Albert. Said their guy was professional, quick, and reasonably priced. 

What he neglected to say is just how fucking hot the guy is. 

Steve trots up the steps to the shop, already winded from the walk from the subway. He pauses with his hand on the door to catch his breath and to reassure himself it’s going to be fine. He can do this. He wants to do this. 

He opens the door and makes his way up another few steps to the front desk. The redhead behind the counter smirks at him. “What can I do for you, cutie?”

Steve clears his throat. “Uh…I’m here to see Bucky.” 

“Of course you are. Hey, Buck! Your ten o’clock is here!” she calls to Bucky while never taking her eyes off Steve. 

“Send him back,” comes the deep disembodied voice. 

The redhead winks at Steve and tosses her head back to indicate the red velvet curtain behind her. “You heard him. Third door on the left.”

“Thanks,” he says. He pushes back the plush fabric with the back of his hand and enters the hallway leading to the rooms. His heart pounds in his chest. He’s really doing this. You can do this, he thinks. 

When he reaches the third door on the left, his heart nearly stops, for just inside the door is one of the most ridiculously good-looking men Steve has ever seen. He’s tall and beefy with long brown hair falling in his face. The man’s jeans-clad thighs look like they could break Steve in half while he begged out a thank you between them. 

“I’m Bucky. You must be Steve,” he says. Steve pays no attention to his uncovered arms in the wife-beater tee. 

“Nice to meet you,” Steve manages to get out. He looks around the small room. He’s assuming he’ll be lying on the padded table while Bucky hovers over him, and god, doesn’t that paint a picture? 

“You want to be sitting, or laying down?” Bucky asks. 

Steve glances at the table and sees that it’s actually adjustable. He’s about to say sitting up, but he opts for “Laying down.” 

“Good choice. Hop on up and take your shirt off.” Buck turns around to prepare his station. 

Steve untucks his shirt and his fingers find the buttons. He’s nervous, so he fumbles with one or two of them, but eventually manages to get it undone. He quickly strips off his undershirt and shivers at the cool air on his skin. He has to give a better than average hop to make it to the table, but he does it. He swings his legs up and lays down. 

He looks over to Bucky who pulls his hair into a messy bun. It makes the man look even better as a couple of tendrils miss the elastic and fall back down to frame his face. He snaps on the gloves making Steve startle at the noise. 

“Sorry,” Bucky says with a smile. “You’re doing both today, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you chose barbells when you booked the appointment.”

“Yes, but…” he trails off not quite sure how to say it even though it’s a straightforward question. Bucky cocks an eyebrow at him. “I was wondering if rings would be prettier.” 

Bucky offers a sly smile. “You like feeling pretty?” 

Steve feels the heat flood his face and neck. He can’t respond to that without getting absolutely tongue-tied, so he ignores the question. 

“Rings are classic,” Bucky says. “Barbells are more modern, so It’s up to you. You can always change them after they heal if you don’t like them.” 

“Rings,” Steve says. 

“Rings it is.” Bucky smiles brightly at him. He selects the jewelry from the small box on his work station, sits on the rolling stool and slides over to Steve, needle in hand. “We’re almost ready,” he says glancing down at Steve’s chest then back up to his face. 

Steve doesn’t understand, just furrows his brow at Bucky. 

“Gotta perk ‘em up for me,” Bucky says and Steve makes the most undignified squeak. He hadn’t thought of that. Of course they’d have to be hard. He opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out. Bucky takes pity on him as he says, “You okay with me doing it, then?”

Steve nods furiously. He’s more than okay with Bucky touching him. Except that as soon as he does, the first little tweak that Bucky gives his nipple, Steve realizes he’s hard. He feels the flush in his face spread to his chest. He hopes to god Bucky doesn’t notice. 

“Come on,” Bucky says, obviously talking to the nub of flesh. “There we go.” He pulls out an antiseptic wipe and swipes it over Steve’s nipple. He shudders at the cool feeling. A pair of forceps to hold the skin taut while Bucky threads the needle through the skin comes next. “You ready?” Bucky asks. 

Steve nods. “Yeah.” 

“Okay. Big breath in…and out….one more…in….and out.” 

The needle piercing his skin doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. What he wasn’t prepared for is his dick twitching. Oh, god. He’s got a pain kink. 

Bucky threads the jewelry though the hole and closes it shut then sprays it with an antibacterial spray. “Okay. Now I’m just gonna roll over here,” he says as he rolls the chair over to the other side of the table. Steve takes a look at him and notices that Bucky is hard, too. 

He smiles. 

“Feeling okay, Steve?” 

“Yeah.” He feels like he’s floating a little. Between the pain and know that Bucky is hard, too? He’s feeling pretty great. 

Bucky repeats the procedure on the other nipple. “Doin’ okay there, sweetheart?” 

“”M fine,” Steve slurs. 

“Good. You okay to sit up?”

Steve does and Bucky looks at his chest. “They look good. Good choice.” Steve looks at himself in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. He did it. He’s got two cute rings in his nipples. He goes to touch one, but Bucky’s hand is there to stop him. “Not quite yet.” 

As Bucky goes through the aftercare instructions, Steve barely pays attention. He’s feeling so good right now, it’s almost like he’s high. He feels Bucky tape some gauze over his nipples - he says it’s so his undershirt won’t rub against them too much and to wear looser clothing for the next several weeks. 

Bucky hands Steve his shirts and the aftercare instructions and Steve gets dressed, the euphoria still coursing through him. He’s feeling too good to care about his erection. He does ask Bucky, though. “That happen often?” he nods his head towards Bucky’s own problem. 

And for the first time, Steve thinks that Bucky is vulnerable as Bucky blushes. “Yeah. Sometimes.” He takes off the gloves and lets his hair down. He really is beautiful. “Here. Let me see that.” He gestures for the aftercare instructions that are on the table next to Steve. “If you run into any trouble, call me,” he says scribbling a number on the paper. 

“‘M’kay.” 

Bucky walks him to the front of the shop. He tells Natasha the total and Steve pays, leaving Bucky a generous tip. “Don’t forget. If you need anything, call me.” And he slips back behind the curtain. 

Natasha smirks at him. “What?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” she says. “That’s just his personal cell is all.” 

It doesn’t hit him until he’s on the subway back home that Bucky could’ve told him to just call the shop if there was any problem. 

Bucky had given him his number.


	78. Whamageddon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky loses Whamageddon.

Bucky finds himself at a coffee house on Christmas Eve. He gives his order to the barista - triple venti peppermint mocha, thank you very much - and makes his way to the end of the counter to wait for his drink. 

He’d heard the bell over the door ring to signal another customer, but hadn’t wanted to invade their privacy by turning to look at them. Now that he’s at the end of the counter, however, he gets a good look at the guy who came in behind him. He’s tall, hair that’s too long, and a beard. He’s also broad-shouldered, and apparently built underneath his winter coat. Bucky licks his lips and swallows. The guy is hot. 

The guy places his order, Bucky can’t hear what it is, and follows him down to the end of the counter. They exchange pleasantries with small smiles and looking away so as not to appear rude, or in Bucky’s case, overeager to get the guy’s name and number. 

Bucky looks around the shop, avoiding all eye contact with the guy. He bops his head a little to the strains of _Jingle Bell Rock_ playing over the speakers, realizing he probably looks like an idiot. Whatever. He likes the song. 

But when the beginning of the next song starts, Bucky makes a fist and says “GodDAMNit,” a little too loudly. 

“You okay?” The guy asks him. 

He points to the ceiling and says “ _Last Christmas_ ,” by way of explanation. 

The guy furrows his brow. “So?”

“He just lost Whamageddon,” the barista says from behind the counter. 

“I don’t understand.” 

Bucky sighs. “Whamageddon is a game where you’re challenged to go from December 1st through midnight on December 24th without hearing _Last Christmas_. I’d gone all month!” 

“Oh.” The guy chuckles. “ If it helps I think I lost it on December 1st.”

Bucky just smiles at him. He really is pretty. And probably straight. It’s not fair. 

“Triple venti peppermint mocha!”

Bucky reaches for his drink at the same time the guy does and their hands brush, creating a shock of static electricity. “Sorry,” Bucky mumbles as he pulls his hand back. 

“I thought that was mine.” 

“Me, too.” 

“Same drink,” the barista says. “I didn’t realize or else I’d have called out a name, too.” 

Bucky notices his name on the side of the cup and is about to take it when the guy reaches for it again. He pulls a pen out of his pocket. “Here. Let me.” He writes something on the side of the cup and hands it to Bucky. 

Bucky takes it and sees a name and number on the sleeve. “Steve,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too, Bucky.” 

“Triple venti peppermint mocha!”

Steve reaches for the cup, but Bucky gets there first. He sets his own cup back on the counter and holds out his hand for the pen. Steve hands it to him and Bucky writes his name and number on the sleeve just like Steve did. He passes the cup and pen back to Steve. 

Steve accepts them, tips his cup as a goodbye, and slips out the door. 

“Did you just exchange numbers?” the barista asks. 

Bucky’s hand goes to the back of his head and he makes the sturgeon face. “Yeah. We did.”

“That was the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” she says. “You’re calling him, right?” 

Before he can answer, his phone rings. There’s no identifying information, but he recognizes the number from his coffee cup. 

“Hi, Steve.”


End file.
